


maybe the end is just the start of us

by zapfinoo



Series: tdc fix-it fics [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death Fix, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Thomas, Recovered Memories, References to The Fever Code, Safe Haven (Maze Runner)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zapfinoo/pseuds/zapfinoo
Summary: Thomas lays Newt down on the ground gently, careful not to hurt him any more than he already has. Newt is looking up at him, and the first thing Thomas notices are his eyes: once black and bloodshot, now fading back to a familiar, warm brown. The darkened veins all over his face and neck also seem to be losing their bizarre color, slowly but surely.Thomas and Brenda are leaning over him, watching a miracle unfold before their very eyes.Or: the Swipe fails, and Thomas falls. (In a lot of different ways, actually.)
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: tdc fix-it fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/931767
Comments: 47
Kudos: 351
Collections: Pieces of Newtmas





	1. for you i'd bleed myself dry

**Author's Note:**

> so, um... i’m back! i “read” [crank palace](https://www.amazon.com/Crank-Palace/dp/B08CVSC7TB) recently, and it wasn’t that good tbh, but it still awakened something in me. so here i am. five years have passed since i discovered tmr, and i’m still as hooked as i was in 2015. yeet. 
> 
> this fic is based on [this thread](https://twitter.com/fIarevirus/status/1115047858066132992) that i can’t remember tweeting. don’t tell anyone, but i’m lowkey very proud of this story. i kinda mixed the book universe and the movie universe together, so just pretend that everything that happened in the fever code (the prequel) is also part of the movie universe, except for thomas and teresa’s telepathy etc. JUST PRETEND OK?!
> 
> the title is from nomad by fleurie! go check it out pls <3 i also made a playlist with safe haven-y love songs that you can find [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/78JjeAWyny59MMjinelCkA?si=l5-G1p0oS3yyag48dSMwug)
> 
> disclaimer: i am an eighteen year old college dropout from sweden lmao. i am sorry for any grammatical errors. also, i don’t know shit about the human brain, obviously, but neither does james dashner.

Thomas knows what’s about to happen before Newt even turns around to face him. He is officially past the Gone. 

Newt launches himself at Thomas, but he pushes him away, while still trying to avoid hurting Newt. It’s a heartbreaking sight to see him struggling to hold on to his sanity. 

Suddenly, there is a big booming sound coming from somewhere south of the headquarters. WCKD must be fighting back with all their strength and all the explosives they have to try to stop the revolution. But Thomas has seen the face of the revolution up close and personal, and he knows that Lawrance won’t stop until the whole city is in flames. Thomas just hopes that they can get out of here before that happens. 

Distracted by the explosion and his thoughts, Thomas finds himself on the ground, tackled by Newt. The action knocks all the air out of his lungs, and he groans, looking up at his friend. 

Newt’s eyes are still completely black, but suddenly there is a tiny flame of comprehension flickering in them.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Thomas’ heart breaks for the thousandth time tonight. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Thomas pants, desperately clutching Newt’s arm, trying to show him that there is nothing that he wouldn’t forgive him for doing. 

A couple of seconds of pure relief follow, where Thomas realizes that maybe it’s all going to be okay. Newt is hovering above him, not moving, not showing any more signs of a violent episode. And Brenda must’ve heard Teresa’s broadcast, she _must_ be on her way with the serum. 

But then Newt lets out an inhuman growl, and Thomas loses all hope again. 

A knife is being pressed into Thomas’ chest, his _heart_ , by his best friend. The frustration of trying to survive a fight that he doesn’t want to win is getting to him, and the knife eventually reaches his skin, puncturing it. 

“Newt, _please_ , this isn’t you,” Thomas pleads, sending a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. But considering the state of the world right now, no one is. Here they are, in the last city left on Earth, surrounded by a cruel virus in the air that will most likely wipe out the human race. Thomas’ blood was their last hope, but it’ll probably be spilled onto the street in a matter of seconds. 

But Thomas won’t let that happen, he decides then. Because if that does happen, they won’t be able to cure Newt. 

So he gathers every last bit of his strength and kicks Newt in the side, successfully pushing him off. The knife clatters to the ground, a few feet away from them. Newt doesn’t seem to spot it, he only has eyes for his prey. 

Thomas gets to his feet and sprints toward the direction of the Berg, where the others are waiting, just in case they didn’t hear Teresa’s announcement. He needs to buy them some time. But Newt is fast, definitely faster than he was when he wasn’t sick. The pain in his leg from his injury probably doesn’t go noticed in his fit of anger and pure insanity. 

Thomas almost crashes into Brenda when she comes running up the steps toward them. 

He just has time to spot the vial with blue serum in Brenda’s hand before Newt catches up to him, tackling him to the ground once again. This time he doesn’t have a knife or a gun to injure Thomas or himself with, so he puts his hands around Thomas’ neck instead, squeezing until he can’t get a word out. 

“ _Brenda_ ,” Thomas manages to croak, hoping she’ll understand what to do. 

She does. 

In a flash of movement, she’s by their side, pressing the syringe into Newt’s arm. The crank shrieks and smacks Brenda away, making his grip on Thomas’ neck temporarily loosen. Thomas takes advantage of this and grabs the syringe, pushing its contents into Newt’s bloodstream. 

The effect is instant. 

Newt almost topples over, but Thomas is there to support him. He lays him down on the ground gently, careful not to hurt him any more than he already has. Newt is looking up at him, and the first thing Thomas notices are his eyes: once black and bloodshot, now fading back to a familiar, warm brown. The darkened veins all over his face and neck also seem to be losing their bizarre color, slowly but surely. 

Thomas and Brenda are leaning over him, watching a miracle unfold before their very eyes. 

Newt takes in his surroundings, looking so bewildered, like he doesn’t remember what just happened.

“Tommy?” Newt starts, but coughs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, staring down at the black substance that was coming out of his mouth earlier. “How... What happened?”

“You... you almost—“ Thomas starts, but his voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and suddenly he just can’t keep talking, no matter how hard he tries. _Died_ , is what he was going to say, but couldn’t. Because Thomas almost just lost every friend he’s ever had, in one day, on multiple occasions. And suddenly it’s all too much, so he’s not very surprised when he feels tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Tommy, hey, it’s alright now,” Newt says and looks at him with a kind, understanding look in his eyes. When Thomas doesn’t respond and just continues to cry, completely speechless, Newt sits up and puts his arms around him. Thomas melts into the embrace immediately, and the exhaustion finally catches up to him. 

Thomas presses his face into Newt’s neck as they hug.

“It’s alright, love,” Newt whispers. Thomas squeezes his eyes shut as a flood of relief and contentment surges through him. Newt continues to whisper the phrase like a mantra over and over, voice thick with affection. Thomas’ face burns hot with embarrassment, so he pulls Newt even closer, not wanting to be seen like this. He feels so stupid for breaking down, especially when there is more work to be done, more fights to win. _You can save so many others,_ Teresa’s voice echoes in Thomas’ mind. _Just come back to me_. 

Suddenly Thomas feels a hand on his shoulder that doesn’t belong to Newt. No, both of his are cradling the back of Thomas’ head, busy playing with his hair. The hand belongs to Brenda, and Thomas pulls away a little bit to see that her eyes are full of tears too, threatening to spill. 

Behind her, Minho and Fry come running toward them. The relief on their faces when they see that all is well is so comically visible that Thomas almost laughs. 

They all hug for a bit before Thomas pulls away again. He has to go, now, before WCKD’s headquarters is destroyed. Before the entire city burns down.

Thomas tells them this, and his friends look at him like _he’s_ the one who’s gone insane. After the day he’s had, maybe he is. 

“Why are you going back?” Brenda asks, wiping her tears. “The Berg is just a couple of blocks away, and we finally have everyone gathered. Let’s go home, Thomas.”

“We don’t have Teresa,” Thomas says to them, meeting his friends’ gazes. Newt, however, looks away when Thomas mentions the girl. “And we don’t have enough serum. Who knows, maybe someone else needs it later.”

His friends still look extremely doubtful. 

“Newt, I almost just lost you,” Thomas says, forcing Newt to make eye contact with him. Determined to not let his voice break again, he continues, “I can’t risk that happening to anyone else. I _need_ to do this.”

Newt doesn’t say anything, but Thomas can hear the echo of a similar conversation from the other day. _What, are you afraid your little girlfriend’s gonna get hurt? Hm?_

Yes, Thomas _is_ afraid, because he does still care for Teresa. He can’t just leave her in WCKD’s claws. Thomas might not remember it, but they grew up together, and they’re connected somehow. 

Another explosion rocks the ground they’re standing on, reminding them that there’s no time to argue. 

“I’m going,” Thomas decides. “We’ll meet up with you guys in a minute.” 

“Be careful,” Newt offers. It’s enough.

_A_ minute accidentally turns into _many_ , but after getting shot by Janson it’s hard to focus on anything but the pain. 

Teresa is helping him stumble into the hot, dry air on the roof as the Last City burns down around them. 

“Come on,” she shouts, but Thomas barely hears her over the loud ringing in his ears. His wound hurts an indescribable amount, and he wants to scream in agony every single second. But instead, he uses every last drop of strength left in him to get across the roof. Turns out there isn’t much left, because he collapses after only taking a few steps. This is how he dies, he realizes then. Because the staircase from which they came is now covered in flames, too, and there is nothing else to do but stay here and eventually burn with Teresa. It’s not a bad way to go—at least he knows that his other friends and the immune kids will live long, healthy lives in the place Vince calls the Safe Haven. 

Teresa cries as Thomas slowly bleeds out in her arms. Smoke is quickly filling his lungs, making it hard to breathe and stay conscious. 

Thomas is only vaguely aware of Teresa pressing the spare vial of serum into his pocket, her hands now sticky with his blood too. He takes her hand, intertwining their fingers before she pulls back. It’s his way of saying, _Thank you_ and _I forgive you_. He tries to actually articulate it, but can only cough instead. 

But when Teresa looks at him through her tears, Thomas knows that she understands. 

Just when Thomas is about to pass out for good, another roaring noise joins the constant ringing in his ears, and white light comes streaming from behind him, illuminating Teresa’s face. 

Thomas turns around to see the Berg in the midst of all the burning chaos, and he’s never felt more relieved. He holds onto that relief as he struggles to his feet. Teresa helps him but it’s still so incredibly difficult to ignore the feeling of being stabbed in the gut with a thousand knives. Also, it’s never too late for failure. That’s a tough lesson he’s been taught over the past couple of months; something can always come around the corner and take away all the relief, all the peace. 

They manage, though, all the way across the roof to the Berg. 

And as his friends pull them both up into the lifeboat, Thomas allows himself to bask in the relief as much as he wants. 

They made it, after all. 

He passes out with a smile on his face.


	2. ultraviolet roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from [this](https://open.spotify.com/track/5Hs8bJ3XnV5PBswEy53TlY?si=yxOAyOtZRiapSq5CZC_Tvw) song which is also v relevant to this story so pls check it out <3

Thomas drifts in and out of consciousness when they are on the ship. He wakes up a couple of times, screaming in pain when Teresa plucks at his wound. 

He’s lying in a hammock below deck, the sea rocking him back and forth. Teresa’s sitting on a chair beside him, giving him a sympathetic look before she gets back to work. She pours something on a cloth and presses it to his stomach, and it stings so badly that he promptly passes out again. 

The next time Thomas wakes, he’s somewhere else entirely. 

A little cabin on the beach, with walls so thin that he can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore so clearly, as if they were here inside with him. 

Memories of what happened in the Last City come back to him after a couple of seconds of sleepy, oblivious bliss, and he wishes that they didn’t. Thomas’ stomach gets tight with anxiety when he thinks about what could’ve happened. They could’ve failed to rescue Minho, Newt could’ve succumbed completely to the virus, and it would’ve been so easy for Thomas and Teresa to die atop that burning building. 

But against all odds, they didn’t. 

Thomas steps outside. He begins his new life standing up, surrounded by warm sunlight and fresh air.

His little cabin is nothing compared to the little village that’s been built right where the sand meets the grass. The mountains behind the huge tents and the ocean ahead of them makes the scene look like a painting. A beautiful one, depicting a utopian world.

But the fresh sea scented air is the best part of it all. Thomas never thought there’d be a place left on Earth where the air wasn’t dry and infected. But here he is, and it’s clear that this place, _Paradise_ , is completely safe from cranks and WCKD. 

Thomas starts walking toward the small village, barefoot in the warm sand, and notices immediately that his wound only hurts a little bit. It aches whenever he takes a step forward, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He lifts his navy blue shirt—which looks suspiciously similar to the one he used to wear in the Glade—and looks down at his stomach. Someone has wrapped bandages around his wound. He must’ve been out cold for a long time if it’s healed this much. 

The first thing Thomas sees when he gets closer is a little gathering of people on the beach. They’re standing by a tall, oblong object. 

As he gets closer, he sees that the people are his friends, and the object is a stone. 

Thomas comes up behind them, facing the ocean and the stone, and Teresa is the first to spot him. “Thomas!” She exclaims and runs toward him, hugging him so tight that it hurts. 

“Ow,” Thomas says, even though he doesn’t mind one bit. 

Minho and Newt meet Thomas’ gaze over Teresa’s shoulder, and both their faces light up at the sight of him, like they’ve just heard the best news of their lives. Thomas smiles weakly at them, not sure if he deserves the love they're silently giving him.

Teresa pulls back to look at him, and there is so much love and alleviation in her eyes that Thomas almost can’t handle it. 

“Well, well, well,” Minho says with a smug smile. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Minho wraps him up in a bear hug, and something in the back of Thomas’ mind tells him that this reminds him of old times. He may not remember those times, but he thinks they might have had their good moments. 

Next up is Newt. “Welcome to the Safe Haven.” He’s got the same satisfied grin on his face as Minho does, but underneath it is something more tender, more vulnerable. Then after a beat of hesitation, he adds, “Greenie.”

That gets a surprised laugh out of Thomas. “Thanks, Newt,” he says as they hug, and a wave of affection for Newt, for all his friends, washes over him. It’s weird seeing them together like this, when he’s been apart from Teresa and Minho for so long. It feels like the Glade, the Scorch—and maybe whatever happened before that, too—but obviously under way better circumstances. 

“What’s this for?” Thomas asks, gesturing to the stone. 

“Not sure yet,” Newt says with a shrug. “But Vince made us drag it all the way here. That bastard.”

Thomas laughs again, happy to see Newt back to his old self again.

“How are you feeling?” Teresa asks in a soft voice. “I mostly took care of it, but you lost a lot of blood. For a while there, we thought that maybe... maybe you wouldn't make it.”

Oh. Thomas hadn’t expected that. “I’m fine, Teresa. Thanks to you, apparently.”

Thomas gives her a reassuring smile, and Teresa returns it, but hers doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Like she doesn’t believe she did enough or deserves praise for it. 

Then Thomas senses movement close to him and looks to his right, seeing Frypan and Brenda coming toward them with matching ecstatic smiles.

Fry must’ve heard what Thomas just said to Teresa, because he says, “Look at us, constantly saving each other!” And pulls Thomas into a bone-crushing hug.

Thomas lets out a laugh, muffled by his friend's shoulder. "Hey, Fry."

Brenda joins the hug on Thomas’ other side and grins up at him. “Yes, we’re a good team, aren’t we?” 

“We sure are,” Fry replies. “How about a group hug?” 

“Yeah, get in here, guys,” Thomas says, and Newt and Minho both step forward, joining the circle. Teresa stays behind, studying them tentatively like she’s silently asking for permission to join as well.

Thomas gives it to her, of course he does. “You too, Teresa. Come on.”

Thomas might not have realized it before, but Teresa never really betrayed them. She just wanted to save the world and got caught up in WCKD’s manipulation.

Newt meets Thomas' eyes from the opposite side of the circle, and a mutual look of understanding and sentiment passes between them. Then Thomas looks at Minho, standing beside Newt with his arm around him, laughing at something Fry just said that Thomas didn’t quite catch. And Thomas remembers the six long months filled with desperation and anger as they struggled to come up with a plan to save their friend. But they managed somehow, and Newt was always by Thomas' side, supporting him no matter what.

And now they’re here, all together in a completely safe place, maybe for the first time in their lives. And created their _own_ fate. 

“We did it,” Thomas murmurs, just for Newt. 

“Yeah, Tommy,” he says. “We did it.”

  
  


Thomas hadn’t realized just how many immunes they’d saved, but there are a lot. So many that he can’t even talk to everyone, because they have to split up for dinner. 

Thomas gets a plate of food from Fry’s kitchen right next to the big campfire and sits down on the log in between Newt and Teresa. He saw them calmly talking to each other earlier, but the tension is obviously still there because they both went silent just before Thomas got close enough to hear. 

Newt gives Thomas a little smile before turning his attention to his plate again. Teresa barely even acknowledges Thomas' arrival though, she just sits there with her head in her hands, clearly thinking very hard about something. She’s in a tank top and jeans, looking so different from when she was in the Last City. Her long hair blows in the warm evening breeze; it’s a bit tangled but she still looks beautiful, in a carefree and casual way. In the best way. 

Newt looks nice, too. Pretty, even. His white t-shirt and signature beige jacket make his already tanned skin stand out in the warm glow of the fire. The sudden observation comes out of nowhere, catching Thomas off guard, and he quickly turns away before Newt notices him staring.

Feeling the awkward silence creeping back, Thomas curses both of his friends for not saying anything. He can’t blame Newt for not forgiving Teresa right away, she did hurt Minho and the other immunes, after all. But she had good intentions, and if it wasn’t for her, Newt wouldn’t be sitting here right now. 

But Thomas doesn’t want to think about that.

So he sits there and eats his food just to seem occupied, while he waits for someone to say something and break the ice. But Minho, Brenda, and Gally are all enthusiastically caught up in a lively conversation with the members of what was Group B, and they don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. 

Suddenly, Thomas can’t stand the quiet tension between Newt and Teresa anymore. 

“So, uh,” Thomas mumbles with a mouth full of rice. “How’s it going?”

Newt laughs, presumably at Thomas' blatant awkwardness, which is fair. “I’m brilliant, Tommy, how are you?”

“I’m good,” he replies. “All things considered.”

Newt grins. “Well, you look bloody fantastic for a guy who just got shot.” 

Something about that sentence makes Thomas’ brain itch. And suddenly there is a thought, something that feels a lot like a _memory_ , just below the surface of his consciousness. Just out of reach. Like the feeling of when you have something on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t find the words to articulate it. 

Thomas tries to ignore it, but it’s infuriating. “Thanks. What were you guys talking about earlier?” 

“Nothing,” Teresa says, suspiciously quick. “We were just waiting for Vince to make his daily speech,” she explains, and something tells Thomas that she’s lying, or at least avoiding bringing something up. 

“They’ve pretty much been the same every evening so far,” Newt snickers. “I think he likes the applause.”

As if on cue, Vince suddenly appears in front of them, standing by the block of stone with his glass raised. 

“We’ve come a long way together,” Vince begins in a steady, determined voice that immediately silences the chatter. “So many have sacrificed so much to make this place possible."

Thomas thinks of the people that got left behind on the way here. Chuck, Alby, Winston, and so many others. He feels a familiar pang of guilt in his heart at the thought of his friends. Maybe, if Thomas were a little faster, a little smarter, they would be sitting here right now. Safe. At peace. But they're gone, and Thomas will never forgive himself. He gave the Right Arm the coordinates of every WCKD trial and facility, yes, but he can't change the fact that he helped build the Maze. Thomas feels like a traitor, sitting here amongst the people that were put in a death trap designed by him.

But then he looks at Newt, and a past conversation they once had echoes in Thomas' mind. _The people we were before the Maze—they don't even exist anymore._

“This place is for you," Vince continues. Newt meets Thomas' eyes, smiles at him, and Thomas allows himself to believe his words. 

"But _this_ ,” Vince points to the big stone, with a pocketknife in hand. Oh, so that’s what the boulder is for. “This is for them. So in your own time, in your own _way_... come make your peace.” 

A round of applause starts and Vince looks at the crowd with blatant affection and fondness, like every single one kid here is his own.

“That’s a good idea,” Minho declares after the applause eventually fades.

Newt stands up, then, and offers his hand to Thomas. “Let’s do this together, shall we?”

Thomas takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up, and barely avoids tripping over his own feet when Newt doesn’t immediately let go of his hand. 

Thomas expects Newt to laugh fondly at him like he usually does, but for some reason his smile has faded completely. Instead, he looks spaced out, like he’s lost in thought.

“You okay?” Thomas asks him and reluctantly drops Newt’s hand. 

Teresa is watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. She’s been weirdly quiet tonight, even for her. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Newt says and smiles, although it looks a bit forced. “Let’s carve some names into that thing, yeah?”

Thomas nods. His arm shakes when he writes Chuck’s name into the stone, but Newt is there to steady him, as always.


	3. forgotten time will find its long way back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter song!](https://open.spotify.com/track/0KDIkIsE6NAR2MPNgs49Mf?si=ITYwBYJqSIyTrR9k1od73Q) also v relevant to this story <3

It takes a while to adjust to the Safe Haven. But Thomas’ gunshot wound heals nicely, all thanks to Teresa and her helpful medical skills. 

The nightmares are always there, though, waiting to haunt him after a great day in the sun with his friends. They are weirdly specific, too, and Thomas has no idea what they mean. He often dreams of dark, empty hallways and someone named Randall—who is everything bad that exists in the world, personified. The dreams in which he appears are the worst by far. Thomas wakes up every time, panting and with a heart beating so fast that it feels like it’s going to come out of his chest. 

But sometimes his dreams are somewhat pleasant, because sometimes Thomas dreams of his friends. 

He dreams of Newt who says, _Come on, I want to show you something,_ and leads him to a door with a tag that says _Maintenance_. Everyone’s in there; Teresa, Minho, Alby, Fry, Chuck, even Gally. They drink something from a bottle that Minho brought. It tastes extremely questionable, but it makes them laugh until the sun comes up. 

Thomas always wakes with a smile on his face after that one. 

But the terrors always come back. Another night he dreams of a pit filled to the brim with cranks who are trying to break down the fence and get to him. Luckily, Thomas wakes up before they succeed. 

And then, maybe the worst recurring dream that Thomas has: he is sitting in a room with only a bed and a desk. Completely alone, like he’s the only human being left on the planet. Thomas waits there for what feels like years, waits for someone to open the door and take him to his friends. But they never come. 

One early morning Thomas has this dream again and wakes up with wet eyes. He quickly looks around the sleeping area with several hammocks hanging from the ceiling, making sure he didn’t wake anyone. That’s happened before. Many times, actually.

Newt is stirring in his bed a few feet to Thomas’ left, but no one else seems to have heard anything, they’re too far away. Thomas waits a couple of minutes for Newt to settle back into a deep sleep before getting out of his hammock. There’s no use in trying to fall back asleep anyway because it’s light outside by now, and the birds are singing.

The sun is just starting to come up below the horizon, tinting the sky a wonderful, dusty pink. The chilly air from the dark hours of the night still lingers, so Thomas shrugs on a jacket and laces his boots. 

After taking a few steps toward the sunrise and the beach, Thomas notices Vince, who’s sitting on one of the benches by the campfire. He has a blanket around him, and his bare feet are in the sand. He looks so peaceful that Thomas doesn’t want to disturb him, but unfortunately Vince spots him before Thomas can turn away. 

Vince gestures for him to sit down beside him, and Thomas complies. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Vince says, not taking his eyes off of the sky. 

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees, studying the ocean and the beginning of a gorgeous sunrise. "It is."

Thomas _has_ seen beauty like this before, but he has never had time to stop and actually enjoy it. Something was always in the back of his mind, telling him that there were better, more important things to do. But there is absolutely nothing to be done now.

And, if Thomas is being honest with himself, that scares him. A lot. He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not running from something, because he can’t remember anything else.

Vince finally looks at him. “How are ya, kid? Couldn’t sleep well?” 

“No, I feel so... restless. I have these weird nightmares,” Thomas admits. “Constantly. And I can’t even remember the last time I got a good night's sleep.”

Worried he might be sounding ungrateful, he quickly adds, “I’m fine, though. Can’t exactly complain.”

“Thomas,” Vince starts and puts his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “It’s okay to, as you so poorly put it, _complain_. You’ve been through so much, I can’t even begin to fathom what your journey has been like.” 

“But—“ Thomas says, but Vince cuts him off without hesitation.

“Because of your blood, you had to bear the weight of the entire human race on your shoulders. I think that grants you rights to ‘complain’ for the rest of your life.”

That makes Thomas stop dead in his tracks. 

“Thanks, Vince,” he says sincerely. “But what am I supposed to do now?”

“Stop running. Because you don’t have to anymore, you know. Try to settle down.”

“I don’t know how,” Thomas admits in a quiet, pathetic voice. 

“Find a nice girl, maybe?” Vince suggests with a playful smirk and then bursts out laughing when he sees Thomas’ reaction. “Or not. Your face turned the color of the sky when I said that, just so you know.”

“I’m aware,” Thomas mumbles. “But thanks for bringing it up.”

Vince's smile is fond, and it reminds him of something. “Seriously, Thomas. Do whatever you feel like doing. The future is yours, and you have nothing but time and freedom ahead of you.”

Then Vince seals the conversation with a hug, and as they embrace, the uncomfortable brain itch comes back.

Something makes its way up the stream of Thomas’ consciousness. The ghost of a warm, loving presence. 

Something he can suddenly remember, though only barely. 

A _father_. 

When they pull away, Thomas takes a second to gather the courage to mention what just happened. “Um, Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else. I’ve been getting this weird feeling lately? It kind of feels like my brain itches, sometimes.”

 _Or maybe all the guilt and trauma is just making you go insane_ , the devil on Thomas' shoulder says to him, but he quickly pushes the thoughts away. “I don’t think it’s déjà vu, definitely something similar though.”

Vince gives him a look that Thomas can’t place. “Oh? I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but I’ll check with Teresa just in case. If anyone knows something, it’s her.”

Thomas doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he could just talk to Teresa himself. Or that he hasn’t already just because he doesn't want to cause more hurt or confusion by troubling her with his problems. 

“Okay, thanks," he says instead. "Good talk, by the way.”

“Anytime, kid.”

As Thomas gets up to leave, Vince speaks again. “You know, it’s funny. I overheard a couple of people talking about the same itch thing yesterday.”

And Thomas does not know what to say to that. 

After eating lunch with Brenda and Jorge later that day, the exhaustion of almost never getting a good night’s sleep finally catches up to him, and Thomas decides to take a nap in the little cabin that he woke up in his first morning here. Thomas goes there sometimes when he wants to be alone, even though Teresa caught him on the way there once and said that the cabin is for injured people _only_.

“You know, like a medical wing,” she’d said. “But tiny.” 

“I _am_ injured!” Thomas protested, even though he knew there was no use in arguing with Teresa. “Look, I’ve got a bandage.”

Teresa tried to stifle a smile but didn’t really succeed. “You and I both know that you don’t even need that anymore.”

Despite Teresa’s words, Thomas flees to the cabin anyway since there are no patients at the moment. There hasn’t been any since he was there, actually. As it turns out, they manage pretty well around here.

Thomas falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow and has a relatively dreamless slumber. For once. But he wakes up way too sooner than he’d like, maybe an hour later, from restlessly tossing and turning too much. Figures. 

He’s learned that he can’t ever fall asleep after waking up, so he gets out of bed and strolls aimlessly around on the beach until Newt finds him.

“Tommy, where have you been?” he asks, genuinely sounding worried. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I, uh,” Thomas stutters, ever so effortlessly. “Took a nap. Sorry.”

“I can see that,” Newt smirks. “Your hair is a mess, mate.”

Thomas runs his fingers through it, feeling a bit self-conscious all of a sudden. He can easily picture what he looks like right now, the dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up in all directions, sleep lines on his face. But Newt has already seen him at his worst, so why does Thomas suddenly care about what he looks like in his presence? 

Maybe because Newt always looks good, no matter what he does. 

“Anyway, could you come with me? Minho wants to talk to us. He called it an _emergency squad meeting_.” Newt makes air quotes around Minho’s words and rolls his eyes fondly. 

Thomas feels his heartbeat quicken. “Why, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t have the slightest clue. The way he was behaving was quite odd, actually,” Newt explains. “I reckon we better go check on him.”

“Where is he?” Thomas asks eagerly, eminently worried about his friend now.

“He was taking the others to Little Beach before I went to find you.”

 _‘_ Little Beach'is the very creative name they’ve given a miniature bay area nearby, hidden behind a cliff at the far right end of the shore. Thomas and Brenda discovered it one day when they were forced to go fishing, and it’s been their go-to place for private conversations and hiding from Vince (when there are too many chores to do) ever since. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

Thomas discarded his jacket and shoes several hours ago when the sun rose higher and higher, and it eventually got too hot. Now he’s in a thin t-shirt and khaki-colored pants that are rolled all the way up to his knees as he steps into the clear blue water. 

Newt is in similar clothing as they wade around the cliff to get to where their friends are. The water reflects the blazing sun, making Newt squint when he looks up at Thomas. His cheeks and nose are somewhat tinted red from too many hours in the sunlight, and freckles are starting to show up all over his face.

Thomas can’t help but stare at him, can’t help but finally admit to himself that he finds him beautiful. When the sudden revelation hits Thomas, it scares him, for some reason. 

Distracted, he accidentally steps on a very slippery stone that he didn’t spot in time, trips, and almost falls into the cold water. Because of course he does.

Fortunately, Newt manages to grab hold of both his arms before that happens. “Bloody hell, Tommy,” he says with a laugh. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

While desperately searching for something smart to say, Thomas involuntary spaces out as his brain begin to tingle again. 

Images of dark hallways and a dimly lit lab with strange equipment flashes before his eyes, nauseatingly fast. A younger, more boyish version of Newt is with Thomas in the sequence of pictures, and they are looking for someone together, searching for—

“Tommy? You all right?” Newt asks, still holding Thomas' arms and shaking him to get his attention. 

Thomas is not all right, because that was _weird_. It was like before, but a more evident, distinct scene. And Thomas can’t help but think, but _hope_ , that what he just saw was a memory.

He doesn’t want to risk sounding batshit crazy in front of Newt, though, so he decides not to mention what just happened. “Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out for a bit.”

Newt’s expression changes from concerned to something else—something Thomas can’t decipher—before quickly lighting up with his usual amused smile. 

“Well, get it together,” Newt says, and crouches down a little to touch the water with his right hand. Thomas knows what’s coming, but before he can turn away, saltwater splashes all over his shirt and face. “There! You should be fine now.” 

And when Newt starts laughing, overjoyed to see his shocked expression, Thomas can’t even pretend to get mad. 

He’s just about to get back at him when suddenly, Minho’s head peeks out from behind the cliff on the other side. “You two coming, or what?”

"Yeah, we'll be right there," Thomas says. He'd been so caught up in Newt and his infectious happiness that he’d temporarily forgotten about reaching their destination. 

They walk the short distance to Little Beach, where Brenda, Minho, Fry, and Gally are spread out on a big blanket under the shade of the only palm tree in the tiny bay area. When Minho called a “friend” meeting, Thomas didn’t realize that Gally also fit in that category, but here he is. Thomas has had long, elaborate talks with Newt and Minho about whether or not he should forgive Gally for what he did, and eventually, they made Thomas realize that it wasn’t really Gally who killed Chuck. It was WCKD. It was probably their plan all along. So Thomas has forgiven him, but that doesn’t mean he considers Gally a close _friend_. At least not yet.

Thomas sits down next to Fry on the blanket, and Newt follows. 

“Thomas, it looks like someone drooled all over you, man,” Minho says, studying Thomas’ soaked shirt. “Newt, you guilty?”

The question launches Brenda and Fry into a fit of giggles, and Gally just looks confused. Thomas feels his cheeks heat up at the comment for reasons he can’t figure out.

“Shut your stupid mouth, Minho,” Newt retorts. “Just tell us why you brought us here.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho smirks and puts his hands up in surrender. “Relax.”

His grin fades when he starts talking again, making Thomas significantly worried about what he’s about to tell them. “So... last night, I had a weird thing happen to me. After drinking a little too much of Gally’s famous recipe, I got pretty dizzy, and—” 

”And when you woke up, you didn’t know where you were or how you got there,” Frypan chuckles. “We’ve heard this story plenty of times, man.” 

Gally laughs along with him. “Yeah, you should probably cut down on that stuff, dude. It’s really strong.”

But Minho doesn’t laugh, not this time. “No, guys, let me finish. I got dizzy, and then I got this weird, itchy feeling inside my head.”

That sends a shiver down Thomas’ whole body, and he instantly knows where this story is going. Fry does too, apparently, because he goes from leaning against the palm tree to sitting up abruptly. His body language screams, _Tell me more!_

“I’d had the same feeling once or twice the last couple of weeks,” Minho continues. “But this time it was way stronger. And then, well...“

“What did you see?” Fry asks in a faint voice, and Minho’s sharp intake of breath mirrors Thomas’ own. 

“I... I saw myself,” Minho says. “I was maybe six or seven years old, and I was running out of some kind of surgical room. Then I saw a younger version of Thomas down the hallway, and all I knew at that moment was that I had to warm him. So I said, ‘they’re putting things in our heads!’” All the hair on Thomas’ arms stands up. “And then, suddenly, everything was back to normal again.” 

In retrospect, Thomas had been wondering why Minho suddenly got quiet and decided to go to bed early last night.

After many long seconds of deafening silence, Brenda is the first one to speak up. “Minho, are you telling me that you're getting your memories back, somehow? How is that even possible? I thought WCKD removed them for good.”

“I’m not sure, but I think that’s what’s going on,” Minho confesses. “I mean, what else could it be? Fry, have you had the same thing happen to you?”

“Yeah,” Fry says. “I’ve had some strange dreams, but up until recently, I thought they were just that. Dreams. I ain’t so sure anymore, though.”

“Same here,” Gally says. He doesn’t elaborate, and he sounds scared. Thomas can’t blame him.

“Thomas? Newt? What about you?” Brenda asks. 

Thomas hesitates for a second, not sure if he wants to share something so personal about himself, something that’s so frightening to remember. But these are his friends, and they’ve been to hell and back together.

“When I was talking to Vince earlier today, I think I remembered my dad,” Thomas admits.

“Holy shit,” Gally breathes weakly. Thomas couldn’t have said it better himself. 

“Newt? Do you, uh. Remember anything?” Thomas asks, shyly meeting his friend’s eyes.

Newt gives him a sad smile. “No, Tommy, I can’t say that I do.”

And Thomas doesn’t know if what he feels is disappointment or relief.


	4. make my messes matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is from [jupiter](https://open.spotify.com/track/2XzuFwP5pWayUnpaK6YpLP?si=PM3-wKTARsqFmJpUsrX1Ig) by sleeping at last, which has always reminded me of thomas n teresa <3

After trading some intangible, fuzzy memories with each other, they all startle at the sound of Vince’s whistleblower. Vince usually only uses it for the purpose of announcing that dinner is ready so that everybody can hear even if they’re far away. But Thomas squints up at the sun, and it is still way too high in the sky for it to be dinnertime. His friends seem to notice the same thing.

“What now?” Gally grumbles, and they decide to make their way back to camp to see what’s happening. 

To Thomas’ surprise, _everybody’s_ gathered by the unlit campfire. Every single one of the survivors. And _Teresa_ is standing in front of them—not Vince—with her back to Thomas. As Thomas and his friends approach, the crowd all turn to look at them, making Teresa do the same. 

“There you are,” she says, sounding relieved. But Thomas feels ripples of anxiety surge through him when he notices the serious, solemn look on Teresa’s face that usually only comes with bad news. 

“What’s going on?” Thomas asks, not sure if he even wants to hear the answer.

“Sit down, guys,” is Teresa’s vague answer. “I have something to tell you.”

All the benches are occupied by other kids, so Thomas sits down on the hard floorboards of the tent-like house that’s been built behind the campfire. Sonya and Harriet are already sitting there, and they look just as distressed as Thomas feels. 

When Newt sits down next to him, he’s forced to make room for the others, so he presses up against Thomas’ side, making them touch shoulder to thigh. The bright afternoon sun shines behind Newt, making his blonde hair look golden. This serves as a temporary distraction from everything else for a while. 

But then Teresa starts talking.

“I know a lot of you don’t trust me, because you know that I have worked for WCKD in the past,” she begins in a steady, persistent voice. “But _please_ , trust me when I tell you this story.” 

She gives off such strong intensity and authoritative energy that Thomas finds it impossible to look away.

“After my group completed the Maze Trials, WCKD took us back to their headquarters to prepare us for phase two. Now, I have no idea what they had planned for us, because we managed to escape, as Thomas might’ve already told some of you,” Teresa spots him in the crowd and Thomas meets her determined gaze. 

Then she continues. “But before we fled, WCKD did a procedure on me which successfully restored my memories. They informed me that they had removed something called _the Swipe_ from my brain, which had previously hindered me from accessing my memories from my life before the Maze. Then—”

A scrawny boy who can’t be older than twelve or so puts his hand up, interrupting Teresa’s speech.

“Yes?”

“Could you, um... repeat that?” the boy asks in a fearful, squeaky voice. He immediately reminds him of Chuck, and Thomas' heart aches at the thought of his friend.

Teresa grimaces. “How should I put this...” she mumbles quietly to herself. Then she seems to make up her mind about something, and her voice grows louder. “What’s your name?” 

“Alex,” the young boy replies hesitantly.

“Alex, I’m going to paint you a picture, okay? Imagine this for me, will you?

The kid nods obediently.

Teresa smiles at him. “Good. So, your brain is a _dam_ in this theoretical scenario. You know, one of those huge dams that were built to suppress floods, before the solar flares?”

Alex nods again, silently urging her to continue.

“The water in this dam represents your memories. And the Swipe is the wall that’s blocking them from pouring out,” Teresa says. Thomas has to admit that it’s a clever analogy. 

“Do you understand, Alex?” When the boy nods, Teresa takes a deep breath, like she’s bracing herself. “Great. Now, a long period of time has passed and cracks have begun to appear in the dam’s wall. So, water is spilling out, but only a small amount at a time.” 

Anxious murmurs erupt throughout the whole crowd, and Thomas’ blood runs cold when he finally realizes what Teresa is trying to say with her metaphor. He feels Newt grow rigid beside him. They make eye contact, and everything that Thomas feels is reflected back to him in Newt’s eyes. Fear, anxiety, disbelief. Thomas is curious to find out about his life from before the Trials, yes, and he is still furious at WCKD for taking his memories. _But_ , the thought of remembering everything still makes him want to curl up into a little ball and hide. Especially if it happens like Teresa predicts: slowly but surely. Because then he’s going to have to endure drawn-out anxiety for a long, long time. 

_The people we were before the Maze—they don't even exist anymore_. Maybe not, but they're about to be revived. And Thomas isn't sure if he can handle that.

It’s already happening. Teresa just confirmed it, his “déjà vu”—and probably his nightmares, too—are _memories_. 

“Is she sayin’ what I think she’s sayin’?” Fry, who’s sitting beside Newt, asks.

“Yeah,” Minho says breathlessly, looking completely bewildered. Thomas has never seen him speechless like this, without a witty joke or a sarcastic reply.

Newt manages to summarize the entire situation with one word. “Shit.” 

After Teresa calms the crowd down, there is a restless tension left in the air that doesn’t seem to be disappearing anytime soon. 

Vince, who hasn’t uttered a single word up until now, says, “Teresa, they must have so many questions. Tell them what you told me.”

Teresa nods and turns to face the crowd once again. “As you might have understood already... the thing that WCKD put in your brains, the Swipe, is failing. I know this thanks to the time that I spent in the upper ring of the Last City. A member of WCKD told me that the device simply wasn’t designed to last very long. As I said, I don’t know what phase two of the Trials would entail if WCKD had gone through with them, but I don’t believe that the Swipe was part of it. That’s my theory on why it’s failing now.”

“So... the dreams that I’ve been having,” Aris says. “They could be memories, too?” 

“They most certainly are, yes,” Teresa confirms. “And Vince told me that some of you have felt a type of itch in your brain. I’m guessing that that’s what happens when memories resurface.”

“I haven’t felt or dreamt anything,” Sonya says miserably. “Is there something wrong with me? Is my Swipe permanent?”

Thomas doesn’t know if he should be jealous of her or not.

Teresa gives her a soft smile. “No, Sonya. I can’t imagine why WCKD would make some permanent and some temporary. You’ll probably start getting your memories back within a few days.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Teresa.” Sonya doesn’t seem to have a single trace of anxiety in her, just relief and excitement. Thomas _is_ jealous of her.


	5. you're the universe i'm helpless in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from [venus](https://open.spotify.com/track/4RJHyjSrcIGkFYpTkdkq2B?si=h5B5CxLVQZiDqb5Ojj31Tg) by sleeping at last, aka the prettiest love song on earth.

One morning a few days later, Thomas finds Newt on the beach. All the others are gathered by the fire as usual, but breakfast can wait.

Thomas sits down next to Newt on the warm sand. It’s cloudy today, but the temperature never drops so low that he needs a jacket, at least not in the daytime. 

“I had a dream about you last night,” Thomas says, practically buzzing out of his skin with anticipation to tell Newt about what he saw. “Not a normal dream, though. You know, a memory. About the time we first met each other.”

It’s a funny story, actually. Thomas will cherish the memory forever. And he’s thankful for getting it back. 

“Yeah?” Newt smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. It makes Thomas hesitate. Maybe Newt doesn’t want to hear about it, maybe it’d be weird to tell him about his own life, since he doesn’t remember anything yet. Maybe it shouldn’t come from Thomas. 

“Do you want me to tell you about it? It’s okay if you don’t, I understand.” 

As Thomas waits for an answer, the only thing he can hear is the ocean waves crashing, and the loud thuds of hammers against nails as Gally and the builders work on some ongoing project of theirs. It’s all a little too loud, suddenly.

“Maybe later,” Newt says, and gives him another sad smile before turning away to look at the sea. “Sorry.” 

Thomas frowns. He gets it, he really does. Thomas himself probably wouldn’t want someone else to tell him about his own life before he could get a chance to remember it. But what worries him is how unhappy Newt has been recently. Even if he hasn’t implicitly said it, Thomas can tell. He knows his best friend well enough. 

“It’s fine, Newt, I swear,” Thomas assures him. “Do you wanna get some breakfast with me? We can sit here if you want.”

“I already ate,” Newt says, absent-mindedly plucking at a loose thread on his trousers. “But thanks anyway, Tommy.”

Thomas doesn’t mention the fact that Fry only _just_ started serving the food. A couple of minutes ago, maybe. He takes the hint. 

When looking back on the last couple of days, Thomas realizes that Newt’s been acting distant ever since Teresa had informed them all about the Swipe. It’s a sudden and life-changing thing to hear, Thomas understands that, but why would it make Newt shy away from his friends? 

As for Thomas himself, it’s not been as bad as he expected. Not yet, at least. One night he dreamt of his mom and dad, but he can barely remember them, it was so long ago since he last saw them. He figures that he must’ve been taken by WCKD at a very young age, maybe four or five. 

Every time he thinks about WCKD or gets a memory back that’s related to them, he sees red and his blood boils. But then he looks around, looks at his friends and the ocean and the wonderful little village that they’ve built together. And he recognizes the fact that WCKD didn’t win, in the end. 

Thomas startles awake at the sensation of someone touching the soles of his feet, and instinctively reaches for the non-existent weapon in his pocket. When he remembers that he doesn’t carry one anymore, he goes for kicking the intruder in the face instead. 

Then, when his eyes finally adjust to the pitch-black darkness, he sees that it’s only Minho.

“Ow, dude!”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Minho, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was tickling you to wake you up _gently_ ,” Minho whisper-shouts. “And the thanks I get is a kick in the head!” 

Thomas can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well, you forget that I’m, uh, a bit traumatized. For a second there I thought you were a crank or something.”

“Right, sorry,” Minho says, and actually looks a little sheepish. “I am too, so I should’ve thought of that.”

“It’s all good, man. Sorry for kicking you, but why did you wake me?” Thomas whispers, not wanting to wake the others sleeping in the small bungalow. 

Minho has a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Because you’re gonna meet us at Little Beach in five minutes. I’m going first so that it doesn’t look suspicious to Vince. He and Jorge are still awake.” 

“Minho, that will look _extremely_ suspicious. And you know that Vince doesn’t care what we do.” 

“Come on, dude, it’s nice to pretend. We never really got to be rebellious kids, you know?” 

“Fair enough,” Thomas admits. “But who’s at Little Beach, and why?”

“Too many questions! Just meet us there in five,” Minho hisses, and then he’s gone. 

Thomas sighs and lies back in his hammock for a while before getting out. He puts his jacket on but doesn’t bother with socks or shoes since he’s going to be wading through the water soon anyway. 

He already knows that it’s going to be a long night. 

It turns out that every single one of his closest friends is at Little Beach. Thomas is pleasantly surprised by the fact that Minho even invited Teresa. 

They’re sitting in the sand around a small makeshift campfire, all looking like they’re having the time of their lives. Thomas smiles at the sight. 

He announces his presence by saying, “Hey, guys,” and sitting down next to Newt and Fry. “What’s going on?”

“ _T_ _his_ is what’s going on, my friend,” Minho smirks at him from across the fire, and then takes out a glass bottle filled to the brim with amber-colored liquid from his backpack.

Thomas’ smile vanishes immediately. “Ah, Gally’s recipe? Great.”

Teresa and Brenda both laugh, undoubtedly at Thomas’ clear skepticism towards the liquor. 

“Tommy, I’m going to pretend like that wasn’t sarcasm,” Newt says and rubs his hands together. “I, for one, suggest we get so tremendously drunk that we can’t even find our way back to camp.” 

“That’s the spirit I’m looking for,” Minho shoots him an approving look before taking the first sip. 

After taking a few gulps, Minho makes a disgusted face. Thomas can’t blame him. At least he didn’t spit it out. 

“Teresa, you want some?” 

She accepts the bottle, and Thomas expects her to just pass it on to Brenda, but to his surprise, she follows Minho’s lead and takes a big swig.

When it’s Thomas’ turn, he decides to try it. The last time he drank, he found it so awful that he instantly spit it out. But that was back in the Glade, and even though it wasn’t very long ago, it feels like a lifetime. 

Fry and Brenda cheer him on as he gulps down a few mouthfuls of the drink. It’s absolutely disgusting and it burns all the way down, and he coughs violently afterward. At least he manages to not gag this time. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Minho states, and doesn’t accept the bottle when Thomas holds it out to him. “Have some more.”

“Fine. You guys are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, clearly,” Newt scoffs. “Good thing you’re invincible.”

Then Newt smiles at him in that special way of his, the kind of smile that seems to be reserved for Thomas only. And Thomas’ traitorous heart does a weird somersault in his chest when he realizes that Newt might actually be the death of him someday.

Later, he changes his mind. The alcohol will definitely get him first. 

Thomas has no idea of when everything started spinning, but that’s what’s happening now. And on top of that, he has to put way too much effort into trying to comprehend what his friends are saying. They’re all talking to each other, quick and loud, so he doesn’t quite succeed. 

Then Teresa turns to him and says something that Thomas _thinks_ he hears, but he forgets what it was between a second and the next. 

“I think I need to lie down,” Thomas mumbles and lets himself fall back. The cool sand is a nice contrast to the hot campfire, and it helps him gather his thoughts a bit more.

After every sip Thomas had, the liquor started to taste considerably less disgusting—so he drank a lot, probably way more than he was supposed to. And so, he’d ended up here: on his back, in the sand. 

“How are you feelin’?” Newt is lying next to him, and Thomas has no recollection of how or when he got there. 

“Horrible,” Thomas whines. “But also pretty awesome, at the same time,” he laughs at his own slurred words. “How is that possible?”

“That’s often the case when one is completely plastered, Tommy.” 

“Oh, yeah? I must be totally _plaastuhd_ , then _,_ ” Thomas laughs again, suddenly finding Newt’s distinctive accent extremely hilarious.

“Piss off,” Newt says and lightly whacks Thomas’ arm with his hand. “Remind me, why are we friends again?”

Thomas has to think about that question for a while. The alcohol is making everything a bit fuzzy around the edges, and he has to try very hard to come up with a sentence that’ll make sense.

“Because... because we make a great team, I think. And because we like each other.” Suddenly he feels a bit too vulnerable for his own liking, and tries to stop rambling before he can say something even more pathetic. 

It doesn’t work. “I mean, _I_ like you, is what I’m trying to say. You like me too, though, right?” Thomas can’t help but ask, because he’s not been able to stop thinking about the conversation they had earlier today. How Newt dismissed him so easily. 

“It was mostly a rhetorical question,” Newt grins. “But yes, of course I do.”

That answer brings him comfort beyond measure. “Okay, cool,” Thomas says, beaming at his friend in a way that surely makes him look like an insane person. But Newt just keeps gazing into his eyes with the fondest, most sentimental expression that he’s ever seen. And Thomas doesn’t know if he deserves all of that blatant affection.

So he turns away and looks up into the vast, perpetual darkness instead. The world shifts and spins a little before he can focus on what he’s seeing, which is a million little shining speckles dotted on the black canvas of the night sky.

“The stars,” Thomas hears himself say. The words feel clumsy in this mouth. “Woah.”

“Mm,” Newt hums sleepily. “One of those things did scorch the Earth, but they _are_ beautiful.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” Thomas jokes, and finds himself pleasantly surprised by the fact that he feels so distant from solar flares, WCKD, and the virus that he can actually _laugh_ about it now. It’s a wonderful feeling. It is what freedom feels like.

Minho—who’s been suspiciously silent for a while—nudges Fry’s side with his elbow and says, “You know who else is beautiful?” In the worst imitation of a British accent Thomas has ever heard. 

“Why, yes, Tommy is!” Fry exclaims, and then they both fall into a fit of delirious cackles. 

“That was _atrocious_ ,” Newt declares, clearly appalled by his friends, and rightfully so. Still, Thomas can’t help but laugh along with them. “And I hate the three of you more than you will ever know.”

His words are mean, but somehow they still sound like a declaration of love when Newt says them.

Ironically, Thomas decided to call it a night when he noticed that the sky had gone from pitch-black to a deep navy blue. The others wanted to stay for a little longer and finish the bottle, but Thomas started to get nauseous just by looking at it, and Newt offered to help him get back to camp. So now, Thomas’ pants are rolled up to his knees once again, and Newt has a helping arm linked with his as they plod through the shallow water. 

“Are you...” Thomas loses his train of thought and has to start over. “Are we going in the right direction?” His world is still spinning and constantly shifting, and at this point he doesn’t think that it’ll ever stop. 

“You know, when I suggested that we should get so drunk that we’d get lost, I was only joking,” Newt sighs. He sounds worn out. “But it seems like you took it seriously.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas mumbles as they round the cliff and can finally walk on steady ground. He can’t help but pay attention to how their arms are still linked. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” Newt shoots him a reassuring smile. “It happens to the best of us.” He still sounds exhausted, though, and Thomas can’t help but believe that he is overstaying his welcome, somehow. A burden is the last thing he wants to be.

“Watch out,” Newt says suddenly and tries to move Thomas out of the way of a big stone buried in the sand, but it’s too late. “Don’t—”

As distracted and intoxicated as he is, Thomas should’ve predicted that he’d stumble and slip over something. _Again_. Their arms are still intertwined, so when Thomas falls, Newt follows and trips over him. When they land on the damp sand, Thomas’ breath is knocked out of his lungs, maybe for more reasons than one. 

“—fall.” 

When he looks at Newt—who now has a rare, unguarded expression on his face—Thomas gets dizzy in a way that can only mean one thing, and he instantly knows what’s going to happen before it does.

Images begin to flash through his mind, fast fast fast. _Are you sure WCKD knows what they’re doing with you?_ They’ve fallen on the floor of some kind of lab, in a pile of tangled limbs. Thomas is laughing, and Newt’s youthful voice comes from above him. Then, predictably, the flashback ends as quickly as it began. 

Thomas looks up at Newt, much like he did in the memory. He feels the warmth radiating off of his skin, feels their bodies pressed against each other, and then a sudden realization creeps upon him.

“Too late. I think I already fell, Newt,” Thomas hears himself groan, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “In a lot of different ways.”

“What?” 

“Nevermind,” he quickly backtracks. “I remembered something, just now. Do you want me to tell you what it was?”

A shadow passes over Newt’s face, and he gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Maybe tomorrow.”

What he means is _no_. And Thomas was expecting that answer, so why did he even ask? He is just setting himself up for heartache at this point. “Okay, that’s fine. But I need to ask you something.”

“Go on, then.”

“How are you?” When Newt frowns, Thomas tries again. “I mean, you’ve been acting kinda distant, lately. Did I do something?”

Newt rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, betraying him. “No, you didn’t.”

“You sure?”

“ _Yes_ , Tommy, I’m one hundred percent certain,” Newt says, and hauls himself upwards and off of Thomas. “Let’s go get some sleep now, yeah?”

They do, and when Thomas wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t remember the way Newt avoided his first question.


	6. guts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weird chapter title? nah, it’s from [guts](https://open.spotify.com/track/5cVBkcYGi6aiG4cnTMfN6x?si=IhbiAMM4Sp6vSfVAXM8aww) by augustine, which is one of my favorite songs Ever. so please go check it out. it’s about “waking up with a hangover together with someone you like” ;)

Thomas feels like _death_ the next day.

He wakes up early, _too_ early, but feels too sick to fall back asleep. And too sick to do anything at all, really. The shade the bungalow provides does wonders for Thomas’ headache, so he doesn’t dare to get out of his hammock. 

Apart from the constant nausea, Thomas doesn’t mind spending the day in bed. It’s nice to just lie around and observe all the activity that’s going on. He doesn’t get to do that a lot. All the others are doing their daily chores, but he doesn’t need to—Vince took one good look at him earlier and said that he needed a day of rest. 

Alex, the little kid that Teresa spoke to about the Swipe, runs by Thomas’ bungalow toward his group of people and yells, “You guys will not _believe_ what I just remembered!”

Thomas smiles to himself and continues to watch the place he thankfully gets to call home. 

Newt comes by around noon with a cup of water and a sandwich.

“Here, you pitiful lightweight,” he signals his presence by saying, and Thomas laughs out loud at the remark. “This is for you.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” Thomas accepts the plate and is hit with the overwhelming and sudden urge to hug Newt, intertwine their fingers, maybe even kiss him, to show him how much he appreciates the effort. The craving is so strong that it scares him. It has been there for a long time, Thomas figures, but last night it was intensified and brought to attention by the drunken state he was in. 

Thomas wants him, wants to be with Newt in every single way possible, and he has _no idea_ of what to do with that information.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Newt casually brushes off the praise, oblivious to Thomas’ inner turmoil. “I wish I could keep you company, but I’m on kitchen duty today, so I gotta rush. I’m trading shifts with Teresa, however, so I’ll send her your way.”

“Sounds good. Go and fulfill your duties,” Thomas tells Newt while grinning from ear to ear. “See you at dinner.”

Thomas has never really mastered the skill of concealing emotion, so he probably looks like an infatuated moron when he looks at Newt. But, like he discovered recently, that is exactly what he is. So, it’s appropriate. 

Teresa finds him soon afterward. 

She climbs into Thomas’ hammock and cuddles up to him with her head on his shoulder. “A little birdie told me that you’re lonely and hungover.”

Thomas scoffs and throws an arm around her. The hammock sways harmoniously back and forth. “Maybe. About that, how are you so unaffected?” 

“I guess I’m not a lightweight like you.”

“Rude,” Thomas says, and then rests his head on top of Teresa’s to silently tell her that he’s not actually offended. “What did you guys do after Newt and I left last night?” 

“We talked about old memories, mostly. Minho mentioned one of the nights when we snuck out to meet up in secret—do you remember?”

Thomas shakes his head. “I don't think so? Not yet, I guess.” 

“Oops, spoiler alert. Those are nice memories, you’ll like them,” Teresa says, and even though Thomas can’t see her face, he can _hear_ the smile in her voice.

“He once stole a bottle of whiskey from Group A’s kitchen inside the WCKD facility,” Teresa explains. That does sound like something Minho would do. “And we both said that last night was kind of a full-circle moment, because of that.”

“That’s awesome, I’m glad you had a good time.”

“How did it go for you guys?”

Thomas hesitates, feeling himself subconsciously put his walls up a little bit. “Good. I mean, I obviously got way too drunk, but Newt helped me get back home.”

Teresa pulls herself up into a sitting position so that she can look at him. Her eyes are practically sparkling with curiosity. “Aaand...?” 

Thomas laughs at how eager she looks. “And? What do you want me to say?”

“What I want you to say is that you two finally sorted out your love for each other and did something about how you feel,” Teresa blurts out in one breath. 

Thomas had _not_ been expecting that. “What? How did you—”

“Thomas,” Teresa interrupts him and smiles at him in that cryptic way that she does when she’s figured something out and is waiting for Thomas to catch up. “You could not be more obvious, even if you tried.” 

“Right,” Thomas cringes inwardly while covering his eyes with both his hands. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing. Do you think Newt knows, too?”

Teresa thinks about that for a while before answering. “I doubt it. But he definitely feels the same way, so I wouldn’t worry too much. I can tell that you are.”

“But I don’t think he does,” Thomas admits. “He’s been avoiding me, recently. And it makes me sad because I’m having all these flashbacks about him. And we were friends back then, really good friends. Not that we aren’t friends now, but... it’s nice to know that we have history. And that we found our way back to each other without even realizing it.”

Thomas blushes profusely when he realizes how much he just poured his heart out. Teresa has always had a way of getting confessions out of him.

Thomas tentatively meets Teresa’s eyes. She looks like she’s going to burst with excitement any second. “Aw, Thomas. So talk to him! _Tell_ him.”

“But that’s the thing, T. He doesn’t remember anything yet. It’d be unfair to tell him about his own life, cause it shouldn’t come from me.”

“What do you mean?” Teresa looks startlingly confused, all of a sudden. “He remembers a lot already. He beat you guys to it, actually, when the virus took over his brain. I think it sped up the process.”

Thomas becomes completely speechless, but inside his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and confusion and hurt. “What?” is the only thing he manages to say. 

“Yeah, he came to talk to me about it, you know, that night when you interrupted our conversation at dinner. And then, when Vince mentioned that others had experienced the same thing, that’s when I connected the dots about the Swipe.”

“So... Newt remembers? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Teresa confirms. Then, when she looks at Thomas and sees his dismal expression, something seems to click in her mind. “Wait, did he not tell you?”

“No,” Thomas confesses. “He didn’t.” 

Thomas considers skipping dinner. 

But his stomach protests and Teresa protests, so he ends up going anyway. He stays glued to Teresa’s side the entire time, not even wanting to _look_ at Newt and feel the sharp, stabbing pain through his heart that comes with seeing him. 

But he just can’t help himself when he feels Newt’s eyes on him. Thomas looks up to see him sitting beside Sonya and Harriet across the fire.

Thomas turns away immediately when they make eye contact, and stares down at his plate instead. No offense to Fry—he’s a phenomenal cook—but canned beans and cornbread is all they’ve had for the past couple days, and it’s starting to taste a little bland. 

The atmosphere is great, though, as usual. Everybody is laughing with each other, someone is tapping on a hand drum, and the company’s great. But Thomas can’t stop thinking about how Newt lied to him over the course of many days. Newt has always been wonderful and unconditionally loyal, so there must be a logical reason for why he lied. But no matter how hard Thomas racks his brain, he can’t come up with a single one. 

Suddenly, Frypan stands up with his hands raised. “Listen up, y’all!” 

The chatter and the drumming stop as everyone gives Fry their attention. The only sounds left are the crackling fire and the hum of the crickets. 

“As you may have noticed, we don’t have a big variety of food right now,” Fry says. Thomas instantly feels guilty about his thoughts earlier. “So I need at least two people to make a trip to the Lakes tomorrow.” 

Everyone groans.

‘The Lakes’ is a number of freshwater pools up in the mountains with a big river running through them. Minho and Gally found them one day when they went exploring, and Fry’s been sending people up there to catch fish ever since. Thomas has never been, but people have told him that it’s an exhausting trip to make.

“I know, I know, it’s a long hike,” Fry continues. “But if nobody volunteers, we’re gonna have to survive on baked beans until the greenhouse is ready. Gally, how long will that take?”

“We’re still working on the roof,” Gally says from somewhere in the crowd. “So a few more days, at least.” 

Fry nods. “See? And I know that every single one of y’all are sick of beans. I am too. So who wants to catch some fish tomorrow?”

Everyone is silent for a while until Aris speaks up. “I would, but I really don’t wanna go all the way up to the Lakes again,” he says. “I can try to catch some in the sea, though.”

“Nah, man, the ocean’s too polluted. Those that we did catch were barely even edible,” Fry explains. “But the river and the pools have a surprisingly rich ecosystem of many different kinds of fish. Bluegills, especially. So who’s it gonna be?” 

“I’ll do it,” Thomas says, because why not? He’s never been up there, and a fishing trip means that he doesn’t have to stand still and wash dishes all day. 

Fry gives him an approving look. “Attaboy, Thomas. Always the hero! But, like I said, we need at least _two_ people. You know, in case something happens along the way.”

“I’ll go as well,” Newt says. “I can’t let Tommy here stumble and fall down a bloody mountain.”

Thomas doesn’t know how to feel about the two of them going on a long trip alone together. A couple of hours ago he would’ve loved the idea, but considering the new information that Teresa gave him, he’s not so sure anymore.

But Fry obviously doesn’t know about his internal struggle. “So it’s settled,” he declares. “Thank you for your attention. Enjoy your beans!”


	7. cliffside pools (with my calamitous love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this: i am going to create an environment that is so magical,
> 
> the chapter title is from [the lakes](https://open.spotify.com/track/65YnIFKuwUCLIqMHAP8TAm?si=zheMt2BzQ_qXORX3dypiXQ) by taylor swift, which i guess in retrospect probably inspired this whole story. thanks queen! also, please google “mac mac falls” before reading, just in case i didn’t paint y'all a good picture<3

Frypan wakes Thomas up at the crack of dawn by throwing a gigantic backpack into his hammock. The weight of it almost makes him tip over, but he manages to stop himself in time. What is it with his friends and waking him up in the most startling of ways?

“Fishin’ time,” Fry whispers. Newt is standing behind him with his own backpack slung over his shoulder, looking at Thomas with an amused smile.

Thomas gets out of bed reluctantly, but after having breakfast he feels the familiar, restless energy he always gets when he’s about to go on an adventure. And this is an adventure, of sorts. Thomas has never been up in the mountains before, and he’s excited to see what it looks like up there.

None of his excitement has to do with the fact that he’s about to spend a lot of alone time with Newt. None.

After breakfast, Frypan follows them up the mountains for a while. When they finally reach the summit, Thomas finds himself staring out into an endless sea of _jungle_.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. Thomas had expected something entirely different: steep, dry mountains, maybe even a wasteland. But there are no signs that this place has ever been touched by the solar flares. It is practically _bursting_ with life, and Thomas has never seen anything like it. 

Newt seems completely stunned too. “How...”

“Uh-huh,” Fry says, inspecting them with a smirk on his face. Then he points to the horizon. “Y’all see those mountains over there?” 

“Which ones?” Thomas mumbles, still speechless. 

“The tallest ones, right ahead.”

Thomas shifts his gaze and sees them immediately. They stand out like the highest skyscrapers in the Last City, but covered in different types of trees and plants instead of curfew countdowns.

“The river runs in between those, so just walk in that direction and you’ll eventually get to the Lakes,” Fry explains. “Should be easy enough for you dumb shanks.”

“Hey!” 

Frypan laughs and pats Thomas’ shoulder. “Anyway, you have everything you need in your bags. Fishing equipment, bait, a tent, and sleeping bags. So catch me some fish, yeah?”

“We will,” Thomas says. “See you tomorrow, man.”

After Fry turns around and disappears, Thomas and Newt start to walk down the hill. The trees become more and more frequent for every step they take until eventually, they find themselves in the middle of a lush rainforest. The air smells like flowers and humidity and _life_ down here, and Thomas enjoys every second of it. 

The trees are so tall that Thomas can’t see the big mountains anymore, but all the other trips to the Lakes have thankfully created a trail in the woods that they can follow. They walk in comfortable silence while taking in everything around them; the tall trees that form a ceiling above them, the red and yellow flowers growing everywhere, the constant humming of the crickets, and whatever else that lives in the forest. 

When the sun is at its highest point in the sky, it shines down on them through the thick roof of leaves, creating golden beams of sunlight that light up their path. Thomas almost trips over a root on the ground as the basks in the beauty of it all. He never, ever thought he’d get to see a place like this, didn’t ever dare to hope that there were well-preserved rainforests left in the world. But here they are, in the middle of one, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Thomas feels his shirt stick to his back with sweat, and he has to stop to take off his jacket and tie it around his waist. Newt does the same.

When they start walking again, Thomas can’t help but stare at his friend. Newt’s hair has turned curly because of the humid air, and Thomas gets a little weak in the knees. Definitely just because of all the walking.

When their hands brush occasionally, Thomas’ heartbeat gets so loud that he worries Newt might hear it. 

The air gets heavier and heavier with moisture for every step that they take deeper into the jungle, and eventually Thomas hears a faint sound of rippling water in the distance. They find the river soon after. The water cascades downstream to their right, presumably towards the ocean. But the trail continues uphill right ahead of them where the river flows down from.

Newt decides that it’s time for a break, so they sit down by the edge of the river, leaning against a thick tree trunk. After enthusiastically devouring the sandwiches Frypan made them, Newt looks at him with a look Thomas can’t distinguish and shifts a little closer. For a heart-stopping moment, Thomas thinks Newt might be leaning in to kiss him, but then he lifts his hand to run his fingers through Thomas’ hair instead. 

“Your hair’s gone all curly,” Newt murmurs before drawing his hand back. 

“I, uh, yeah,” Thomas stutters like a moron since they’re still so close to each other. “Yours too. It’s the humidity, I think.”

Newt hums in affirmation and turns to look at the river. “What do bluegills even look like? How are we supposed to find any?”

“Well, they’re probably blue, right?” Thomas suggests.

Newt fondly looks at him and shakes his head. “Idiot,” he says before getting up and reaching for his hand.

Thomas accepts the offer, letting himself be pulled up into a standing position. “What? It would make sense!” 

As they continue their walk upstream, they never see any fish. Not once. 

Eventually, they get to the big mountains that Fry had pointed to earlier, and the river does in fact run in between them, just like he said it would. They walk into the ravine and the mountains tower up on each side, making Thomas think of the Maze before he can push the thoughts away. 

The Lakes are right ahead of them. They are both the size of a big pond, with blue, almost green water flowing through them, creating small waterfalls as the land continues to tilt uphill. The pools are full of lily pads, seaweed, and insects. But there are no fish in sight. The trail ends where they’re currently standing, and the forest ahead is so thick that Thomas can’t see what’s in front of them. But all the water in the river must come from somewhere.

Thomas gets an idea. “Why don’t we continue going upstream for a while? If we don’t find anything then we can come back here and set up camp.”

“Sure, Tommy,” Newt says, and his voice echoes in the narrow space. “Lead the way.”

They hike up the rough terrain for a long time, and Thomas almost gets smacked in the face by every branch he has to plow through. The river is always next to them, but they never see a single fish.

“We should probably turn back,” Newt says. “The sun sets in an hour or so.”

He’s right. Thomas can’t see the sun anymore, it has disappeared behind the tall mountain towering beside them, and it’ll get dark soon. But Thomas has a strange yet good inkling about what lies ahead. 

“Just a couple more minutes,” he promises. Feeling unusually brave, he dares to take Newt’s hand and intertwine their fingers. “Come on.” 

“Fine,” Newt mutters, but his smile and the way he squeezes Thomas’ hand betrays the grumpy facade he tries to put up. Thomas' heart does a little flip. He can only hope that his hand isn’t too sweaty.

After a few minutes, the sound of cascading water becomes louder than it’s ever been so far. Thomas pushes away some thick branches with his hand that isn’t currently occupied with holding Newt’s and stops dead in his tracks when he sees where they have found themselves. 

They are standing in a small clearing with pink and white flowers blooming on the patch of grass. It’s a dead-end of sorts because the end of the ravine towers ahead of them. The river comes pouring down the wall of stone above them—it’s approximately a two hundred feet drop—creating a stunning waterfall. The water collects in a wide pool at the foot of the cliff, and then it continues to run down into the woods from where they just came. 

“Bloody hell,” Newt says, breathless. “I suppose the hike was worth it, after all.”

Thomas couldn't agree more. 

After setting up the tent in the middle of the clearing, Newt announces that he’s going for a swim. 

“I am not saying that you stink,” Newt tells Thomas over the calming sound of the waterfall. “But you should probably join me.” 

“That _was_ you telling me that I stink.”

“Fair point,” Newt laughs and begins to take off his shirt. Thomas quickly looks away, unreasonably flustered by the innocent action. 

Thomas turns to look at the sky instead as Newt undresses. He knows that the sun has gone down even though he can’t see the horizon, because the sunset has painted the sky a soft, pink color that fades out into a dark blue in the east. It’s gotten a little bit colder, but not to the point where it is unpleasant. Just refreshing.

Thomas flinches at the sound of water splashing. Newt’s shirt, pants, and boots are left by the edge of the water, and he is now peacefully swimming in the pool amongst the lily pads. The blushing sky makes the water look like melted rose-colored gold.

“Come on, Tommy,” Newt says. “It’s really nice, I promise.”

Thomas gives in, and his face turns the color of the sky when he strips down to his underwear, feeling Newt’s eyes on him the entire time. 

The cool water startles Thomas when he jumps in but he quickly adapts, and then it just feels nice, like Newt said. The water reaches Thomas’ shoulders when he tentatively plants his feet on the bottom of the pool, expecting slimy seaweed to touch him. But thankfully there are only rocks down there.

Newt comes swimming toward him. “Well?”

“Yeah, this is great,” Thomas admits. 

The waterfall and the pink backdrop is nothing compared to how pretty Newt looks. And Thomas is hit with the sudden urge to tell him about how he feels. He almost does, then, but stops himself when he remembers how Newt’s been lying to him. Thomas is about to bring it up, but Newt speaks before he can. 

“Tommy,” he breathes, and it almost gets lost in the sound of the waterfall behind them. Thomas is confused for a moment before he follows Newt’s line of sight down to his own chest. There, right above his heart, is a scar from the knife that Newt pressed into his skin back in the Last City. 

“I didn’t know I left a scar,” Newt says, refusing to make eye contact like he is ashamed. 

“It’s okay,” Thomas tries to tell him, but his friend’s melancholy expression doesn’t change. “It wasn’t your fault, Newt. You know that, right? I have never blamed you and I never will.”

“Yes, I know that. I know _you_ ,” Newt steps even closer, so close that Thomas can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. “But that doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty.” 

“Well, it should,” Thomas murmurs, breathless from their close proximity.

“I can’t even look at it,” Newt whispers faintly, reaching out to cover the scar with his hand, and his warm touch sends a shiver down Thomas’ spine. He hopes Newt doesn’t notice the little gasp that he can’t stop in time. 

“It’s _okay_ ,” Thomas tries again and places his hand on top of Newt’s. “Forgive yourself, please? For me?”

“I’ll try,” Newt says, giving him a wistful smile before retreating back to shore. 

Their dinner is, predictably, canned beans with tomato sauce. While sitting on their jackets on the grass, they eat directly out of their cans after warming them over a small campfire they built next to the tent earlier.

It’s dark outside now, but the almost-full moon is brighter than Thomas has ever seen it. It casts a mystical light over the ravine, creating a shimmering luminescence on the water. There are some mosquitoes out, but the warm, humid breeze stops them from going to sleep. Thomas never wants this magical night to end.

There’s been some uncomfortable tension between him and Newt ever since they swam in the lagoon, though. The feeling of something unsaid is hanging in the air, and Thomas knows that it’s not just him who feels it. 

Thomas is too nervous to keep on eating, so he decides to just bite the bullet and bring it up. “Teresa told me something yesterday. About... about your guys’ conversation.”

Newt doesn’t look up from his food. “Which one?”

“Um, the one at dinner,” Thomas says and hopes that it’s enough for Newt to know what he’s hinting at. “The day I woke up.”

“Oh.” A look of realization crosses Newt’s face. “That one.”

“Newt,” Thomas whispers, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Why would you lie to me about your memories?”

“I’m sorry,” Newt says and then takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself for something. “Let me explain, yeah?”

Thomas nods, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I got my first memory back when the virus took over completely,” he begins. “Or, I should say _memories_ , because many resurfaced at once. A bloody storm of them, in fact. I was so confused because I didn’t know what was going on at first. I thought I had lost my mind for good. But then I remembered my parents, and I just _knew_ from that point on that what I was seeing were memories from the past. Then I remembered my sister, Lizzy.” 

Thomas is about to ask him about her, but Newt takes another deep breath and says, “You know her as Sonya.”

“What?” Newt’s words take Thomas by such surprise that they feel like a slap in the face, and he physically recoils. “Sonya’s your sister? Newt, that’s _incredible_. Does she know?”

Now that Newt mentions it, Thomas does see the family resemblance. They’ve got the same blonde hair, and their noses scrunch up the same way when they smile. 

“No, Tommy, she hasn’t gotten her memories back yet, remember? That’s what she told Teresa.”

“But you can still tell her,” Thomas protests. “You’re her friend, she would believe you.”

Newt frowns. “I don’t know about that. It would make me sound absolutely bonkers—she would probably think that I’ve still got traces of the Flare left in me.”

“And I would tell her that I took care of that.”

“I bet you would,” Newt laughs. The fire flickers as a warm breeze blows through their campsite, painting him golden. “Anyway, you lot seemed to enjoy the whole process, sharin’ memories every night at dinner and so on. But my childhood was only full of agony, so what stories did I have to tell? Think about it, how fun would that conversation be at a campfire?”

Thomas’ heart breaks. “You’re right. I’m sorry, if Teresa knew, she wouldn’t have—”

“It’s alright. I was gonna tell you eventually, but I wasn’t ready yet.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t—”

“I want to, you deserve to know,” Newt says and takes Thomas’ hand in his. “Tommy, when I’m with you, your presence triggers a lot of memories.” 

Thomas’ breath hitches. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Thomas’ part, but Newt’s words sound a lot like a love confession.

“When you woke up, you were the only thing on my mind for a long, long time. I started to remember you and the countless days that we spent apart when WCKD separated us because they found out that we’d been meeting up in secret. Do you remember that year?”

“Some of it, yeah,” Thomas whispers as he squeezes Newt’s hand. He remembers sitting in his room, doing absolutely nothing as the days passed by. He remembers the all-consuming longing in his heart.

“That year couldn’t have been fun for you either, surely. But for me, it was _hell_. You had come into my life so suddenly, and made me feel so much,” Newt says and caresses the back of Thomas’ hand with his thumb, making the butterflies in his stomach go wild. They drift even closer, like two magnets drawn to one another. 

“Then, when they took you away from me, I felt like I’d lost all hope. Nothing had meaning anymore. And I was too young back then to know what those emotions meant.” Thomas holds his breath. “But as the memories came back, I finally understood. And that’s why I tried to keep my distance, sometimes. I was afraid of my feelings.”

Thomas _thinks_ he understands what Newt is trying to say, but he has to be sure before he does something impulsive that he might regret afterward. “What do you mean?”

“Tommy,” Newt murmurs, searching for something in Thomas’ expression. “Do you really want me to spell it out for you?” 

“Yes,” Thomas breathes and shifts closer, letting his gaze flicker down to Newt’s lips. “ _Please_.” 

Newt reaches out to tilt Thomas’ chin upwards before he finally kisses him.


	8. show me where my skin begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the brokeback mountain of it all .... LISTEN I Got Carried Away. i am such a cheesy piece of trash for writing this, oh my god. i just wanted to make thomas experience Affection and True Love... (no sm*t. it’s implied tho. I’m Embarrassed. they burned the tent afterwards dw)

Thomas had his first kiss with Brenda, and it was hardly even a kiss, just a pair of intoxicated lips pressed against each other with nothing but confusion and loneliness behind the action. He barely remembers it. 

But this, what’s happening right now, is a whole different thing. Newt kisses him with so much passion and affection, like he thinks Thomas is worth something. Like Newt believes that Thomas wasn’t just born to play a role in WCKD’s games, like he wasn’t just born to be drained of all his blood. 

Newt makes him feel _loved_.

They’ve been through so much together and the odds were always stacked against them, but somehow, they still ended up here; with Newt’s hands cupping both of Thomas’ cheeks and with Thomas sighing into the kiss, tugging on Newt’s shirt, silently begging him to get closer. 

When Newt finally tilts his head and deepens the kiss, Thomas hears a desperate, throaty sound and it takes longer than it should for him to realize that it had come from himself. Newt smirks against his lips, and Thomas’ stomach flutters intensely at that, almost to the point where it becomes unpleasant. If he weren't sitting down right now, his knees would most certainly give out.

Thomas has no idea what to say when they pull apart, cause Newt is still holding his face in his hands tenderly, looking at Thomas in a way that makes him feel light-headed. Newt has an astonished look on his face, like he can’t believe what just happened. Thomas can’t either. 

So Thomas doesn’t say anything, he just presses another quick, chase kiss to Newt’s damp lips. It’s a silent question of _can we do that again?_

They meet in the middle and the rest of the world fades into oblivion once again when Thomas opens his mouth to meet Newt’s tongue. The only sound he can hear is the push and pull of their lips against each other, the only thing he can focus on is Newt’s soft sighs as Thomas kisses him back.

The kiss becomes even more intense when Newt’s hands drift down to Thomas’ neck. Thomas’ heart races as Newt holds him in place, kissing him thoroughly, like he is worth every single bit of his attention. 

They only pull apart when the need to breathe becomes too strong to ignore. “We should...” Thomas pants. “We should, uh. Go inside?”

“If that’s what you want,” Newt says, exhaling shakily. 

“I do,” Thomas replies. It sounds like a confession.

It’s dark inside the tent, but the moon does provide some light from outside, like a bright street light. 

Thomas stumbles in first with Newt in tow. The tent is small, barely even made for two people. Newt closes the zipper before turning around to face him, and Thomas leans in to kiss him again as soon as he does. Now that they’ve started, now that Thomas knows what this is like, he can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. Newt seems to agree.

Thomas places one hand on the back of Newt's neck, pulling him closer to kiss him hungrily, desperately trying to show Newt how much he wants this. How long he’s been longing for this exact moment.

Newt responds eagerly and puts both of his hands on Thomas’ chest, gently nudging him backward until Thomas finds himself on top of his sleeping bag on the floor of the tent, staring up at Newt while trying to catch his breath.

Newt hovers above him, looking down at him with flustered cheeks, messy hair, and eyes full of undeniable desire. Thomas waits for him to do something, anything, wanting Newt to touch him but doesn’t know how to ask for it. He doesn’t have to, it turns out, because Newt kisses him again. Thomas moans into his mouth when Newt finally touches him, hands roaming over Thomas’ chest and sides before slipping underneath his t-shirt. Newt’s hands are gentle yet impatient as they drift downward, igniting a fire of _want_ and _need_ in Thomas’ soul.

“Can I take this off?” Newt asks in a quiet voice, fumbling with the soft material.

“Yeah,” Thomas nods eagerly and helps Newt pull the shirt off. He finds himself a little insecure about laying in front of Newt without a shirt on. It’s so intimate, it feels like every emotion Thomas has ever felt for Newt is on display for him to observe, especially when he looks him up and down with dark eyes. 

“Yours too,” Thomas says, blushing at all the adoring attention that Newt is giving him.

Newt nods at his request, and Thomas helps him take off his shirt with shaky hands. It gets stuck for a moment when Newt tries to pull it over his head, and then they both start laughing at the same exact time. When Newt gets it off and tosses it to the side, still laughing, Thomas feels the skittish tension dissipate immediately. 

Thomas leans up to kiss him again, but they’re both smiling and giggling too much for it to work. It’s like they both simultaneously realize that there’s no pressure, they are still best friends who trust each other unconditionally, even though things just changed significantly for them.

Then Thomas feels Newt placing his hand above his heart again, absentmindedly caressing the scarred skin there as they trade kisses. 

“Hey,” Thomas mumbles against Newt’s mouth. “Remember what I said earlier? Try to forgive yourself.” 

Newt hums, kissing him again before saying, “I don’t suppose I ever thanked you for saving me with your strange blood.” 

“You never had to,” Thomas whispers. “And it’s not _strange_.” He imitates Newt’s accent horribly just to make him laugh once more. He does. 

“I know, I know, you’re a walking biological miracle and all that. Whatever, I didn’t want to make your ego bigger than it already is,” Newt says with no real malice behind his words.

“Shut up,” Thomas retorts, syllables intertwining with his chuckle.

Newt grins. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Mm, very smooth,” Thomas says and wraps his arms around Newt’s neck, pulling them flush against each other, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The warmth of their bodies pressed against each other lights him up from the inside.

Newt desperately kisses back, and Thomas swallows the wonderful sounds of pleasure that he makes. 

Newt breaks off eventually to press soft, quick kisses from his mouth down to Thomas’ neck. Thomas has a hand in his hair now, keeping Newt close as he kisses, bites, and sucks the sensitive skin where Thomas' pulse beats ferociously. Thomas looks up at the ceiling of the tent, making these breathless, whining sounds that he thought he was incapable of doing. 

But Newt has always found ways to surprise him.

“Is this alright, love?” Newt asks in between kisses, his fingers grazing the skin just above Thomas' waistband.

“Yes,” Thomas gasps helplessly, and when Newt smiles, he _feels_ it against his throat.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Thomas blurts out, biting his lip to keep himself from grinning like a maniac. “Feels like I’m dreaming.”

It does, in fact. Thomas is extremely tired, but also extremely content in Newt’s arms. They’re facing each other, so Newt runs his fingers through Thomas’ sweaty hair with ease. 

Newt snickers at the comment. “Oh, does it, now? Sounds to me like I did a fantastic job.” 

Thomas blushes even though the words are innocent compared to what they just did. He even can’t be bothered to come up with a witty response, so he just nods in affirmation. Newt snickers again and moves a little closer, pulling the covers all the way up to their shoulders. It turns out they only needed one sleeping bag—it is unzipped the whole way down and serves as a makeshift blanket to cover them both.

“Speaking of dreams,” Newt takes Thomas’ hand, holds them up above the covers, and starts to absentmindedly play with his fingers. “Tell me about the first time we met.”

Thomas recalls the conversation they had on the beach a couple of days ago, the morning when Thomas dreamt of their first meeting. Newt said _maybe later_ when Thomas asked if he wanted to hear the story, and apparently Newt was being serious. “Sure, but you already remember that, right?”

“Yes, but tell me anyway. I want to hear it from your perspective.”

“Okay,” Thomas begins. “So, one day when I was alone in my room, it occurred to me that I hadn’t tried to see if my door was locked in a while. So I grabbed the handle, and to my surprise, it popped open. Which it had never done before, it always locked itself automatically when I closed it. Needless to say, I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do with all that freedom I suddenly had, you know?”

Newt hums and presses quick, soft kisses to Thomas’ knuckles.

“I decided to wait 'til midnight to go exploring, but I had to psych myself up for it the entire day. The second I was about to leave, though, the door suddenly swung open, and there you were. And then, I, uh...” Thomas loses his train of thought as Newt continues to place kisses all over his hand.

“Go on,” Newt smirks, _knowing_ that he is currently affecting Thomas’ ability to speak.

“I can’t,” Thomas whispers. “Not with you distracting me like that.”

“You better get used to it, love.”

The nickname sends a flood of warmth through Thomas’ whole body. Unable to stop the smile slowly forming on his face, he continues. 

“Then you introduced me to Alby and Minho, as you know, before we went to see Son—” Thomas manages to stop himself in time. “ _Lizzy_. And I remember thinking that you made me feel like we’d been friends for years, even though we’d just met.”

Newt seems to be satisfied with the story. “There had been a lot of rumors going around Group A about _the Elites_ for a long time. Minho suggested that we should check you out, so I went to your rooms to snag you and Teresa. Our doors were always open, so I suppose I didn’t even think about knocking.”

“It was fate,” Thomas jokes, but finds himself sort of believing it. 

“It must’ve been,” Newt murmurs sleepily and gently nudges him to the side. “Now, turn around so I can hold you or whatever.”

Thomas gives in and feels Newt wrap an arm around his waist seconds later. Newt presses a kiss to the back of Thomas’ neck before his breathing eventually evens out. Thomas is about to doze off too when he realizes that this moment is the first time in his entire life where he feels one hundred percent safe. 

It’s an indescribably beautiful feeling.

He should’ve known that it wouldn’t last long.

In his dream, Thomas is sitting in the control room as usual. This is his life now, now that his friends have been sent up to the Maze. He feels completely empty as he stares at the screens in front of him.

His friends seem to be in a somber mood today. Thomas can’t blame them—they don’t remember who they are, after all. A familiar feeling of longing and pure sadness runs through him when he sees Minho and Winston together by the Homestead. He never thought he’d miss them this much, because he always thought they’d at least remember him. 

Thomas will never forget the lightning bolt of pure shock that went through him when he realized that WCKD had taken their memories away. Their identities. And he will never forgive them for doing that, or himself for not trying to stop it earlier. Because he should have known that WCKD would do something like that, something so undeniably cruel. He’s spent his whole life here, he knows them well enough by now. 

He doesn’t even want to _think_ about how they’re sending Chuck up there soon.

Thomas’ heart stops when he sees Newt on the screen. He can immediately tell that something is off. He zooms in on him to see what’s going on. Newt is leaning on Alby, seemingly unable to put his full weight on one leg. The two of them slowly make their way across the Glade towards the Homestead and Newt grimaces in pain with every step.

“What happened to you?” Thomas mumbles to himself as he frantically presses a few buttons, making the recorded clips play backward until he gets to the footage from the previous day. 

Thomas watches, paralyzed and heartbroken, as Newt runs out into the Maze and climbs one of the walls. Then he jumps, and Thomas can’t take it. He turns off all the screens, breathing heavily as he gets up and paces around the small control room.

How can WCKD just let this happen? How can they just stand by and _watch_ as people’s lives are endangered? And why the hell does _he_ keep allowing himself to be a part of it?

Thomas makes a decision, then. He can’t keep watching them suffer. This is the last drop.

He sits back down in his chair. One time, when Chancellor Paige didn’t realize that Thomas could hear her, she’d mentioned WCKD’s worst enemy. The Right Arm. Ava has always had faith in him, maybe too much faith, as it turns out, because Thomas has access to all the information about current and former staff of WCKD. He turns on the monitor again, closes the live feed of the Glade, and opens another program. 

Thomas quickly finds Mary’s name on the staff list. He doesn’t know much about her, but he met her a couple of times when he was younger before she left WCKD. He asked Ava about her once, but quickly wished that he’d never opened his mouth when she shot him a glare that could kill. 

Thomas copies the coordinates to every WCKD lab and trial, getting ready to send them to Mary. But then he hesitates with his finger hovering above the _send_ button. Who knows what WCKD will do to him when they find out? Because they will. They always find out, no matter what. 

They might kill him, and he will never be able to save his friends.

But then it hits Thomas: they simply _cannot_ kill him. There’s a reason why he’s one of the Elites—he’s too much of a valuable asset to the organization. They’ll probably put him in the Maze instead. 

The realization is what makes Thomas press the button.

“I’m coming for you, Newt,” he whispers out into the empty control room. “I’m coming for every single one of you.”

Then he quickly gets to his feet. He has to tell Teresa before they find him.

Thomas wakes with a gasp. 

The memory that just came to him in the form of a dream is a stinging reminder of why he was so anxious about remembering everything in the first place. He is reminded, once again, that he doesn’t belong here. In the Safe Haven, or in Newt’s arms. Thomas is a walking hoax amongst great people, pretending to be something he isn’t. Every single second. He’s not some hero. He’s a traitor and a failure.

The guilt of it all is stronger than any physical pain he has ever felt. It holds the pain of ten thousand gunshot wounds, ripping him apart agonizingly slow. 

Thomas doesn’t even realize that he is desperately struggling to breathe until Newt speaks. 

“Tommy,” he whispers against his neck, voice thick with sleep. Another jolt of shame runs through Thomas because he just woke Newt up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Thomas lies while trying to catch his breath, and doesn’t turn around to face Newt. “Go back to sleep.”

“Look at me,” Newt protests and gently nudges him so that they’re facing each other. 

“There you are,” Newt says when Thomas turns around. He smiles softly as he reaches out to wipe a stray tear off of Thomas' face. He hadn’t even realized that he was crying until now. “Will you tell me what you remembered?”

Of course Newt can tell what's going on. 

“I was watching you. On the monitors,” Thomas admits in a quiet voice. “And then you jumped.” 

His voice breaks at the end of the sentence as he realizes that one day Newt will look at him, and he won't see Thomas anymore. He’ll just see him as one of the Creators. And that scares Thomas more than anything else in the world. But Newt is looking at him like this doesn’t change anything, and for some reason that just breaks Thomas' heart even more, and he can’t stop the flood of words as they come rushing out of his mouth.

“That was the thing that made me realize that things needed to change. I watched you guys for years, though, before I decided to do something. People died because of me,” Thomas blurts out between pathetic sniffles, wanting to just get this conversation over with so Newt can understand why he’s too good for him, why Thomas doesn’t deserve all the love that he’s giving him. “They never told me that they would take your memories, but I knew Ava, I should’ve known that she’d do something like that. I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t deserve you, I—“

Newt shuts him up with a quick kiss. “Hush, love. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

Thomas does as he’s told, and when his breathing eventually evens out, Newt says, “Do you remember what I said, back in the Glade, after you told us that you were one of them?”

“Yes, I know, you told me that our past selves don’t exist anymore. But they do now, Newt.” 

“Do you remember what I told you after?” When Thomas nods, he says, “Tell me.”

“It only matters what we do now.”

“Exactly,” Newt says, continuing to caress his cheek. Thomas ducks his head, looking away in shame. But Newt tilts his chin up again, forcing him to meet his gaze. “And the others, they didn’t die for nothing. They sacrificed themselves so we could get here. And that is not your fault.” 

The weak moonlight coming from outside the tent illuminates Newt's features, making him look ethereal. Thomas doesn’t deserve him. 

“Still, I was part of a group that put you guys in a death trap,” Thomas says, desperately trying to make Newt understand. “How can you still want me when you know what I did to you? I’m one of the reasons why you felt so sad, so scared, so hopeless. You jumped, and I did that to you.”

“No, you were just a kid who wanted to save the world. Like Teresa. You’ve forgiven her, haven’t you?” 

Thomas is speechless for a moment. “Yeah.” 

“So take your own advice, then,” Newt whispers and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Forgive yourself.”

“It’s different with me.”

“How?” Newt has a look of genuine confusion on his face. “WCKD took advantage of you. And, like you said, you didn’t even know the half of what they were planning to do.”

“Still. Someday your perspective will change, and you will start seeing me as one of the Creators,” Thomas says. He dreads that moment. “Because that’s what I am.” 

“No, Tommy. You made mistakes, yes, but I will always see you as the one who eventually fixed them. Because _that’s_ who you are.”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Newt. So he doesn’t say anything at all, just presses their lips together once again, and tries to pour all the love he feels for Newt into the kiss. 

“You’re courageous,” Newt whispers and pulls away to press a soft kiss to his nose. “And fearless, even when you shouldn’t be. You’re the perfect leader...” 

As Newt lists these things, he continues to press kisses all over Thomas' face, and he feels himself tear up even more. 

Then Newt pulls away to look Thomas in the eye. It feels like he’s staring into his soul, seeing every good and bad part of him. And yet, he chooses to be with him, for reasons Thomas can’t wrap his head around.

“I admit that you can be awfully stupid sometimes,” Newt admits. That makes Thomas laugh through his tears. “But you’re wonderful, Tommy.”

“So are you,” Thomas says in a faint voice. “I can’t even tell you how _good_ you are.”

“Let’s make a deal, yeah?” Newt suggests, wrapping his arms around him in the darkness. “How about we _both_ try to forgive ourselves?”

“Okay,” Thomas breathes and gives in to the warm embrace, pressing his face into Newt's neck and slides an arm around his waist.

“Good,” Newt murmurs and presses a final kiss on Thomas' forehead. “What’s past is past.”


	9. even dust was made to settle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? 
> 
> this is the last chapter :,,) thank y’all so much for reading, it genuinely means the world to me. i got SO SAD when i finished this, bc what the fuck am i supposed to do now? i have lived inside this fic, in paradise, at lil’ beach, and by the lakes for almost a month now :,) but back to reality i guess.

Waking up in Newt’s arms is something that Thomas can definitely get used to. 

They spend an absurd amount of time just looking at each other. Reminiscing about what happened between them last night without any words, just glances and touches, while seeing each other in a whole new light. Metaphorically _and_ literally. The mild morning sun shines through the tent from behind Thomas, illuminating every single speck of dust, making him feel like his senses have been turned up to the max.

“Oops,” Newt says, out of the blue, breaking the hypnotic trance between them. He has a hand on Thomas’ neck, caressing the skin there with his thumb.

Thomas tries to figure out what Newt is staring at, but he obviously can’t look down at his own neck. “What is it?” 

“I may have left some... marks. On you,” Newt admits sheepishly.

“Oh,” Thomas breathes, pleasantly surprised by the fact. “Some good marks this time, then? Cool.” He tries to downplay his reaction so that Newt doesn’t notice just how delighted he is. Newt has always been able to read him like an open book, though, so Thomas probably isn’t very successful.

“Great ones, in fact,” Newt confirms. Then he pauses, hesitating for a moment before shyly whispering, “You look lovely.”

“I knew it,” Thomas says, smiling so much that his cheeks hurt. “You can’t resist me.”

Then it occurs to Thomas that they have to go home today, and his mood drops a little. “Oh, man. Our friends will never let us hear the end of this.” 

But even though Thomas _dreads_ the moment Minho takes one look at him and puts the pieces together, he also looks forward to it, in a way. Because every bruise on Thomas’ neck is like a trophy to him, showing everyone that his heart now officially belongs to someone. 

Newt looks a little worried, suddenly. “Would you prefer it if we kept it a secret?” 

Thomas almost laughs at the absurdity of the question. “No, of course not,” he assures Newt and shuffles closer to him under the covers. 

“I want to hold your hand on the beach and kiss you by the campfire in front of everyone. You’re never getting rid of me.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect to me, Tommy.”

Later, they find themselves back in the water.

Thomas reaches out to touch the heavy stream of the waterfall, and he has to try surprisingly hard to stop his hand from being pushed down by the sheer force of it.

“Hey, Newt,” Thomas says over the loud sound of the running water and pulls him closer. “Wanna take a shower?”

“Mm, I’ll join you in a moment,” Newt says and pecks Thomas’ lips once before placing his hands on his shoulders, shoving him back underneath the waterfall. 

Thomas is pushed under the surface by the strength of the rapidly running water, and comes up spluttering after a couple seconds, completely soaked from head to toe. But he can’t even pretend to be angry when he sees Newt throw his head back, laughing like a little kid.

“You know what this means,” Thomas exclaims. “War!”

He splashes water all over Newt, but he just laughs even more. And it hits Thomas, suddenly, that they are having _fun_. He can’t remember the last time he had fun.

Then his brain starts to tingle, and it’s like the Swipe says, _Well, here you go, Thomas. Remember._

A big portion of the dam’s barrier explodes, and water comes rushing out at the highest velocity yet. Various images begin to flash before Thomas’ eyes of Alby, Minho, Chuck, Teresa, and Newt. He remembers the fun times they had in the facility where they grew up. They weren’t allowed real childhoods since they were expected to act like grownups at all times, but kids are always gonna find a way to be kids, no matter the circumstances. Thomas remembers Teresa tampering with the security cameras so that they could sneak out at night and see each other in the old maintenance room in the basement, where no one ever found them. 

Thomas remembers the best six months of his life over the span of a couple seconds, and it’s overwhelming, to say the least. 

As he is remembering, though, Thomas can’t push away the nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him that there’s something he’s forgetting to do. But then Newt kisses him again, and he stops thinking altogether. 

They hold hands a lot during their hike back home. Sometimes Thomas will say something, about their surroundings for example, thinking he sounds extremely dumb, but Newt rolls his eyes fondly pulls him in for a kiss every time. 

So, it’s almost already gotten completely dark when they finally arrive at camp. 

“Home sweet home,” Thomas mumbles and throws his backpack down on the sand while Newt does the same, not even bothering to hide their exhaustion. 

Their friends are scattered everywhere—some are sitting on the beach watching the lingering sunset, and the builders are obediently working on the greenhouse, but most are hanging out by the campfire as usual. 

Minho spots them immediately and approaches them at a steady pace with a smug smirk on his face.

“Hey, how was your trip? Did you guys kiss and make up?” Minho asks, clearly joking and oblivious to the fact that they literally did.

Thomas rubs the back of his neck while sheepishly glancing at Newt. 

“Um, yeah. I guess you could say that,” Thomas admits, desperately trying to make his blush go away somehow.

Minho’s eyes linger on a particular spot on Thomas’ throat, and his smirk fades immediately. 

“Wait a minute,” Minho says, holding both his hands up, like he’s having a very intense epiphany. Then, predictably, his annoying smirk makes a comeback. “Holy shit, you actually _did_. I’m not really sure yet, because my Swipe is failing pretty slowly, but I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

“Piss off, Minho,” Newt retorts. He is laughing, though, so the snappy answer doesn’t have much of a strong impact.

“I can’t believe you guys finally got your shit together,” Minho says, smiling like a madman at Thomas. “I literally thought Newt was gonna talk my ear off about you before somebody made a move.”

Thomas grins, surprised to hear that they've been talking about him, but Newt isn’t laughing anymore. “Do you need me to repeat myself? _Piss off_.”

Much to Newt’s dismay, Minho only cackles in response.

Frypan must’ve heard the commotion, because he comes up to them and says, “Yo, guys, did y’all have a good trip?”

“Oh, yeah,” Minho answers for them. “They _definitely_ did.”

Before Fry asks what Minho means, Thomas cuts in, eager to change the subject so that he won’t have to deal with _two_ teasing maniacs. “Yeah, it was great, Fry. Anyway, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Thomas hears Newt mutter next to him. Before he can try to figure out why, he is met with two baffled stares from his friends. 

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

“Tommy...” 

“What do you mean, _what’s for dinner_?” Fry genuinely looks mad, and Thomas still has no idea why. “Bluegill, I hope!”

 _Oh._ Thomas _knew_ there was something he was forgetting _._ “Oh, shit.”

Minho starts cackling again, and Frypan continues to stare at Thomas and Newt, dumbfounded. “You _forgot?_ How could you shanks possibly forget the purpose of the entire trip?!”

“I can think of several reasons,” Minho says, winking at them. “Good job, you two.”

Fry looks like he’s going to burst into flames any second now, which is completely understandable. They were too busy making out that they forgot the fact that they were actually on a _fishing trip_. Thomas was right, earlier. He and Newt are _never_ going to hear the end of this. 

Fry doesn’t have any time to say anything else, though, because suddenly there is a figure coming towards them in a blur of blonde hair and breezy laughter. 

Sonya crashes into Newt’s open arms with a disbelieving, teary laugh.

“Hey, big brother,” she says, swaying them sideways in their affectionate embrace. Thomas meets Newt’s gaze over Sonya’s shoulder. He looks at him with misty eyes for a moment before closing them and wrapping his arms around her sister’s waist, hugging her tightly.

“Hey, Lizzy,” he murmurs. “Missed you.”

Minho actually looks moved by the scene playing out in front of him. So moved that he says, “Let’s give them some space, guys.”

Thomas agrees. This moment should only be between the two siblings, reuniting after almost four years of being apart and not even remembering each other. He thinks of WCKD again, of how they could possibly do such a horrible thing, separating families that obviously love each other. But as he walks away with a last glance at Newt and Sonya, he once again remembers that WCKD did not win, in the end.

They have beans for dinner, and Thomas keeps his promise by kissing Newt right there, by the campfire.

In front of everyone.

A couple of days later, Thomas and Newt are at Little Beach again—hiding from Frypan who, understandably, gave them three weeks of consecutive kitchen duty as a punishment for forgetting about his precious bluegills. 

Newt is leaning against the only palm tree, and Thomas is draped over his lap with his bare feet in the sand. 

Newt runs his fingers through Thomas’ hair, looking down at him with his reassuring smile that Thomas is so fond of. The sun is just beginning its descent into the ocean, painting them in golden, almost red, hues of light.

As Newt leans down to press a kiss to Thomas’ cheek, he realizes that he has never felt this content before. Thomas’ life has gone from the worst imaginable scenario to the absolute _best_. Here he is, on a beautiful beach, wrapped up in the arms of the boy he loves, with almost all his friends close by, alive and well. And life is good, despite everything they’ve been put through. Life is perfect, even.

Then, when Thomas closes his eyes, he sees Chuck’s cute little face in front of him. 

_I won’t even remember you, so it’s really like we’re saying bye forever_ , he tells Thomas in the memory.

Thomas remembers thinking that getting Chuck’s hopes up a little before getting his memories swiped couldn’t hurt. So he’d said, _There’ll be a time, in the near future, when we have a cure and we’ll all be living in the same neighborhood—rich, fat, and happy. Everyone will have their memories back, and life’ll be sweet. Just look forward to that._

Thomas never believed his own words, but they actually came true. And it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“Newt?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“I just remembered something.”

“Yeah? Wanna tell me about it?” Newt asks, continuing to run his fingers through Thomas’ hair the most comforting way possible. Thomas has always been the type to keep his troubles to himself, not wanting to bother other people with them, but Newt makes him want to open up.

“Yeah, it... it was something I told Chuck right before he was sent into the Maze,” Thomas says and summarizes the flashback as well as he can without getting too emotional.

Newt presses a chaste kiss to Thomas’ mouth after he’s done telling the story. “Well, you were correct. Life _is_ pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Thomas will never get used to this, the way Newt treats him so gently—like Thomas is actually worthy of his unconditional love. 

Newt is starting to make him believe that maybe he is, after all.

“Yeah, it is. Which I’m really happy about, obviously, but I just wish Chuck could be here to see it. Alby and Winston too.”

“So do I,” Newt says with a wistful tinge to his voice. He moves his hand to Thomas’ cheek, caressing it tenderly, which always makes Thomas’ stomach flutter. 

“I know Chuck was like a brother to you,” Newt continues. “And I know you miss him every day. I wish I could take your pain away, somehow.”

Thomas’ heart _melts_. “Newt, you _do_. In a lot of ways.” It hits him, then, that Newt should’ve known that by now. And Thomas is hit with the overwhelming urge to tell him just how much Newt means to him, just how much he feels for him. 

So Thomas grabs the collar of his shirt to pull him down to kiss Newt again. Then—after a heart-stopping moment that feels a lot like the terrifying milliseconds after tripping over something and realizing that he is falling through the air—Thomas pulls back and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Tommy,” Newt replies effortlessly, as if the sudden confession doesn’t come as a surprise to him. “Of course I love you.”

“Really?” Even though Newt always treats him like he does, Thomas had his doubts. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Newt confirms, rolling his eyes, but with a smile hidden underneath. Like always. “Have I ever done something that suggests otherwise?”

Thomas thinks of him following him into the Maze, the Scorch, and the Last City without hesitation. _I’m already in._ Then he thinks about Newt from _before_ , pulling Thomas into a tight hug after one whole year of not being able to see each other, saying, _You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning._

“No,” Thomas whispers, still breathless from the confession.

“Exactly, so why do you look so surprised?” Newt grins. “Now, sit up so I can kiss you properly.”

Thomas complies. Newt kisses him carefully and with so much love behind the action that Thomas feels himself space out, unable to think or focus on anything else but Newt. Who he loves. Who loves him. 

They continue to trade soft, tender kisses until...

“Friends incoming!” Minho yells, coming around the corner of the cliff with his hands covering his eyes. “What are you two doing? Can I open my eyes?”

Newt breaks the kiss, leaving Thomas gasping for air. “Yes, you bloody moron, you can.” 

So Minho does. “I hate to interrupt your date, lovebirds,” he says while every single one of Thomas’ other friends appears behind the cliff. Teresa, Fry, Brenda, Lizzy, Harriet, even Gally. “But we thought having dinner on the beach tonight sounded like an awesome idea.”

“Yes,” Teresa agrees, plopping down next to Thomas in the sand. In her hand is a huge basket filled with plates, mugs, cutlery, and something wrapped tinfoil. “Because we’ve got something to celebrate.”

“What’s that?” Thomas asks, confused by the festive commotion suddenly unfolding in front of him.

“It’s our three month anniversary of being here!” Lizzy says, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder. “Can you guys believe that? Time has gone by so fast.”

“It usually does when you’re having fun, you know,” Newt tells his sister before meeting Thomas’ eyes. “When you’re happy.”

They exchange loving, warm smiles for a moment before Fry cuts in. “Nah, none of that cliché shit at my dinner table, please. Let’s eat.” 

The ‘dinner table’ is a blanket in the middle of the circle of friends, plus the basket Teresa was carrying earlier. 

“Fine by me,” Thomas says. “What are we having?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” Gally says, reaching for a bottle of amber liquid in the basket. Thomas barely suppresses a disappointed sigh.

“And your guys’ favorite, of course,” Harriet says, snickering at Thomas and Newt. “Bluegill.”

“Some kids from Group B came back from the Lakes earlier today,” Fry explains, as Gally places the cups in the sand and pours his signature drink into them. “They’re younger than us, but they still did way better than you stupid shanks.” 

“Listen, it’s not my fault,” Thomas replies. “Love makes you pretty stupid.” 

Brenda throws a fork at Thomas. “What did Fry just say, loverboy?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Thomas chuckles. “No more cliché stuff, I promise.”

Newt bursts out laughing. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tommy.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Minho says and lifts his glass, silently encouraging the others to do the same. “Here’s to three months.”

“And to many, many more,” Teresa says.

The thing is, they have nothing but time and freedom ahead of them. And Thomas isn’t currently running from anything, but that doesn’t scare him anymore. Not one bit. Because he is starting to understand who he is. 

Thomas looks at his friends,

and he allows himself to settle down.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! come say hi to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fIarevirus) if you want!
> 
> tmr fam forever <3  
> the end, but not goodbye.


End file.
